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MDTH~ER, 

ENGRAVED FOR HOMES. 



HOMES: 



flow they are Made Happy 



— BY — 



Chrifl t§f 3(|atu!s § Mmtnt 1 jcart^l 



By SAMUEL SMILES, 

author of 
"Self Help," "Character," "Thrift," "Duty," Etc. 



The home of the poorest man has a glory in it when it has honor, 
and truth, and virtue, and love. 



ILLUSTRATED, 







CHICAGO: 

THE HOME PUBLISHING CO. 
1884. 



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?\1* 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, 

By THE HOME PUBLISHING CO., 

In the office of tae librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



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Vjx 



PRESS OF 

OTTAWAY PRINTING CO., 

54 & 56 Franklin St. 

CHICAGO. 




mfmmrmmm 



'TV HE writings of Samuel Smiles are so well and favor- 
***■ ably known, and so live in the hearts and lives of 
reading people the world over, that this latest and 
most general compilation from his ethical works, will 
meet with a warm welcome from the friends of better 
education and purer literature. 

Thoughtful people will not for a moment decry the 
importance of the inculcation in youthful minds, of 
principles of industry, frugality, honesty, self-reliance, 
virtue and love. % 

We need not say here that in writing for the people, 
Mr. Smiles has written of the people in their homes, in 
their work-shops and places of business, in every walk 
of life. The fact is well known to every one who has ever 
read a chapter or even a page of his writings. He has 
shown by the lives of hundreds of men and women that 
these cardinal virtues are the foundation of the pros- 
perity not only of individuals, but of nations. 

While his writings possess the interest and fascination 
of a novel, in the portrayal of character and the sketch- 
ing of romance, they are a rich mine, almost a cyclo. 
pedia of biography, history and useful inventions. 

The cheap, trashy and vile literature of our day is 



4 Preface. 

rapidly corrupting the minds of our youth and sapping 
all energy and desire for useful study, sound reasoning 
or sober thought. 

Unless a halt is called, and these active intellects be 
led to purer streams where flow untainted waters, not 
only are they lost, but society and the lives of nations 
are in imminent danger. This work must begin at 
home. Parents must see that their children are fed in 
mind with wholesome literature as they would supply 
the body with wholesome food. 

Nearly two decades elapsed between the writing of 
the first and second volumes of Mr. Smiles' works and 
his later writings have followed at comparatively long 
intervals. He has been able to draw from his own 
memory and within his own life time, many of the in- 
cidents and biographies produced by his pen. 

His life has been one of unusual activity, full of 
business which has brought him into contact with peo- 
ple in every phase of life and his keen perception and 
careful observation have made it unnecessary for him 
to draw from imagination or resort to the use of fiction 
to add interest to his literary work. 

That, in the publication of this volume, the dissemina- 
tion of these almost incomparable writings will be in- 
creased a hundred fold, and that by encouraging hands 
to honest labor and hearts to noble and generous pur- 
pose many homes may be made better and happier, is 
the sincere hope of the publishers. 



(^ A A A A A A_, A_A..,. A 



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CHAPTER I. 

HOME POWER. 



Home makes the Man. — Domestic and Social Life. — The Child. — Surround- 
ings of Children. — Influence of the Mother. — Power of Example. — Civi- 
lization dependent on Good Women. — Boyhood of St. Augustine. — Influ- 
ence of Early Impressions 17 

CHAPTER II. 

HOMES THE BEST SCHOOLS. 

The best Nursery of Character. — Influence of Women. — Mothers of Great 
and Good Men. — Washington, Cromwell, Wellington, the Napiers. ...29 

CHAPTER III. 

MOTHERS OF GREAT LAWYERS AND STATESMEN. 

Curran and Adams. — The Wesleys. — Mothers of Poets. — Ary Scheffer's 
Mother. — Michelet's Tribute to his Mother. — Lord Byron. — The Footes. 
— Lamartine 36 

CHAPTER IV. 

WOMEN AND BUSINESS HABITS. 

Education of Women. — Nations and Mothers. — True Sphere of Women. — 
Women and Work. — Women and the Art of Preparing Food 45 



CHAPTER V. 

COMPANIONSHIP AND EXAMPLE. 

Influence of Companionship. — Force of Imitation. — Companionship of the 
Good. — Power of Associates. — Boyhood of Henry Martyn and of Dr. 

Paley. — Dr. Arnold an Exampler „ 53 

V. 



yi. Contents* 

CHAPTER VI. 

POWER OF GOOD EXAMPLE. 

High Standard of Living.— The Inspiration of Goodness. — Admiration 
of Good Men. — Influence of Gentle Natures. — Sir W. Napier. — Energy 
evokes Energy. — Radiating Force of Great Minds. — Admire Nobly. — 
Johnson and Boswell 64 

CHAPTER VII. 

YOUNG MEN'S HEROES. 

The Envy of Small Minds. — Admiration and Imitation. — The Great Musi- 
cians. — Masters and Disciples. — Enduringness of Good Example. — Con 
solations of a well-spent Life -* 74 

CHAPTER VIII. 

INFLUENCE OF CHARACTER. 

Character a Great Power in the World. — Common Duty. — Character above 
Learning and Wealth. — Character a Property. — Honesty of Character. — 
Principles.— Reliableness.— Practical Wisdom.— Sheridan and Burke. .84 

CHAPTER IX. 

CHARACTER AND CIRCUMSTANCES. 

Formation of Character. — The late Prince Consort. — Force of Character. — 
The Conscientious Man. — The Quality of Reverence. — Intrepidity of 
Character. — Lord Palmerston. — Contagiousness of Energy. — The Napiers 
and Sir John Moore. — Washington. — Wellington. — Influence of Personal 
Character. ^ 94 

CHAPTER X. 

REVERENCE FOR GREAT MEN. 

Luther, Knox, Dante. — Character a Great Legacy. — Character of Nations. 
—Washington Irving and Sir Walter Scott. — Character and Freedom. — 
Nations Strengthened by Trials. — Noble and Ignoble Patriots. — Decline 
and Fall of Nations.— Stability of Character of Nations. 106 

CHAPTER XI. 

WORK. 

Work the Law of our Being.— The Ancient Romans.— Pliny on Rural Labor. 
—The Curse of Idleness.— Causes of Melancholy.— Excuses of Indolence. 
— Industry and Leisure. — Work a Universal Duty. — Lord Stanley on 
Work.— Life and Work 117 



ContetUs. viu 



CHAPTER XII. 

DIGNITY OF WORK. 

Work and Happiness. — Scott and Southey. — Work an Educator of Character. 
— Training to Business. — Business Character. — Wellington, Wollenstein, 
Washington 126 

CHAPTER XIII. 

WORKING GENIUSES. 

Genius and Business. — Literature and Business. — The Great Men of Eliza- 
beth's Reign. — The Great Italians. — Modern Literary Workers. — Workers 
in Leisure Hours. — Business Value of Culture 136 

CHAPTER XIV. 

SPECULATIVE AND PRACTICAL ABILITY. 

Napoleon and Men of Science. — Hobbies. — Literary Statesmen. — Sir G. C. 
Lewis. — Consolations of Literature. — Work and Over-work 14?" 

CHAPTER XV. 

COURAGE. 

Moral Courage. — Martyrs of Science.— Persecution of Great Discoveries.' — 
Hostility to New Views. — Socrates, Bruno, Galileo, R. Bacon, Vesalius, 
and others. — Martyrs of Faith. — Annie Askew, Mary Dyer, Fortitude of 
Luther.— Strafford and Elliot .,157 

CHAPTER XVI. 

COMMON COURAGE. 

Success Won through Failure. — Tyranny of " Society." — Moral Cowardice.. 
— Pandering to Popularity. — Intellectual Intrepidity. — Energetic Cour- 
age 167 

CHAPTER XVII. 

COURAGE AND TENDERNESS. 

Generosity of the Brave. — The Douglass. — Laplace. — The Magnanimous 
Man. — Education of Women in CoUrage. — Moral Strength of Women. — 
Heroism of Women 178 



viii. Contents* 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

SELF-CONTROL. 

:Self -control the Root of the Virtues. — Value of Discipline. — Supremacy of 
Self-control. — Domestic Discipline. — Virtue of Patience. — Character of 
Hampden 190 

CHAPTER XIX. 

STRONG TEMPER. 

Evils of Strong Temper. — Strafford, Cromwell, Washington, Wellington, 
etc. — Instances of Self-control. — Faraday, Anquetil. — Forbearance of 
Speech. — Honest Indignation 197 

CHAPTER XX. 

FORBEARANCE — HONESTY. 

Forbearance in Conduct. — Faraday's Practical Philosophy. — Burns's Want 
of Self-control. — Beranger. — Tyranny of Appetite. — Honesty of Living. 
— Dishonesty of Improvidence. — Public Honesty. — Sir Walter Scott's 
Heroic Effort to pay his Debts. — Lockhart and Scott 20? 

CHAPTER XXI. 

DUTY — TRUTHFULNESS. 

Upholding Sense of Duty. — Conscience and Will. — Sense of Honor. — 
Sacredness of Duty. — Freedom of the Individual. — Washington's Sense 
of Duty. — Wellington's Ideal. — Duty and Truthfulness. — Wellington and 
his Aurist. — Truth the Bond of Society. — Equivocation. — Pretentious- 
ness 222 

CHAPTER XXII. 

DUTY — CONSCIENCE . 

The Sphere of Duty. — An American Legislator. — Foundation of Duty. — 
Conscience. — Power of Will. — Religion. — Self-control. — The best Gov- 
ernment.— Plato. — The New Testament Ideal. — Dr. Macleod.— Char- 
acter 235 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

DUTY IN ACTION. 

Duty at Home. — Direction of the Will. — Characterless Men. — Locke on the 
Will.— School Teaching and Morality.— Human Liberty.— Noble Work. 
— Difficulties. — Laziness. — Resolution and Courage. — Intellectual Ability. 
— Lady Verney on Literature. — Discipline of Home. 249 



Contents. ix. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

HONESTY — TRUTH. 

lying. — Little Lying. — Regulus the Roman. — Honesty in Business. — De- 
preciation of Manufactures. — The Chinese. — Bad Work Lying. — Socrates 
on Perfection of Work. — America on Money-making. — America without 
Apprentices. — Badness of Trade. — Commercial Gambling. — Repudiation 
of Pennsylvania. — Illinois remains Honest. — Honesty of a German 
Peasant 263 

CHAPTER XXV. 

TEMPER. 

Cheerfulness of Disposition. — Jeremy Taylor. — Cheerfulness a Tonic. — A 
Beam in the Eye. — Dr. Marshall Hall, Luther, Lord Palmerston.— Great 
Men Cheerful. — Fielding, Johnson, Scott. — Cheerfulness of Men of Genius 
— Abauzit, Malcolm, Burke. 277 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

TEMPER — CHEERFULNESS . 

Basis of Cheerfulness. — Beneficence and Benevolence. — Power of Kindness. 
— Shallowness of Discontent. — Morbidity of Temper. — Querulousness. — 
St. Francis de Sales on the Little Virtues. — Gentleness. — Cheerfulness 
and Hope 287 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

SELF-HELP — NATIONAL AND INDIVIDUAL. 

Spirit of Self-help. — Institutions and Men. — Government a Reflex of the 
Individualism of a Nation. — Caesarism and Self-help. — Patient Laborers 
in all Ranks. — Self-help a feature in the English Character. — Power of 
Example and of Work in Practical Education. — Value of Biographies. 
—Great Men Belong to no Exclusive Class or Rank.— Illustrious Men 
Sprung from the Ranks. .. 297 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

SELF-HELP — EXAMPLES . 

Distinguished Astronomers.— Eminent Sons of Clergymen.— Of Attorneys. 
—Illustrious Foreigners of Humble Origin.— Promotions from the Ranks 
in the French Army.— Instances of Persevering Application and Energy. 
— Diligence Indispensable to Usefulness and Distinction. — The Wealth- 
ier Ranks not all Idlers.— Examples.— Military Men.— Philosophers.— 
Men of Science.— Politicians. — Literary Men.— Men their Own best 
Helpers - 310 



x. Contents. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE. 

Great Results Attained by Simple Means.— Fortune Favors the Industrious. 

"Genius is Patience." — Industry of Eminent Men. — Power Acquired 

by Repeated Effort. — Anecdote of Sir Robert Peel's Cultivation of Mem- 
ory, — Facility Comes by Practice. — Importance of Patience.— Cheerful- 
ness. — Hope an Important Element in Character. — Perseverance of Watt 
and Stephenson 331 

CHAPTER XXX. 

APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE. 

Comte de Buff on as Student.— Genius is Patience.— His Continuous and 
Unremitting Labors. — Sir Walter Scott's Perseverance. — His Working 
Qualities.— His Punctuality 343 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE GREAT POTTER — PALISSY. 

Ancient Pottery. — Bernard Palissy: Sketch of His Life and Labors. — 
Inflamed by the Sight of an Italian Cup. — His Experiments During 
Years of Unproductive Toil. — Indomitable Perseverance; Burns His 
Furniture to Heat the Furnace. — Success at Last.— Reduced to Desti- 
tution. — Condemned to Death, and Released. — His Writings. — Dies in 
the Bastille » - 355 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE GREAT POTTERS — BOTTGHER, WEDGWOOD. 

John Frederick Bottgher, the Berlin " Gold Cook." — His Trick in Alchemy, 
and Consequent Troubles. — Discovers How to Make Red and White 
Porcelain. — The Manufacture Taken up by the Saxon Government. — 
Bottgher Treated as a Prisoner and a Slave. — His Unhappy End. — Josiah 
Wedgwood, the English Potter. — Wedgwood's Indefatigable Industry.— 
His Success. — Wedgwood a National Benefactor. — Industrial Heroes... 372 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

LEADERS OF INDUSTRY — INVENTORS AND PRODUCERS. 

Industry of the English People. — Poverty and Toil not Insurmountable 
Obstacles. — Working men as Inventors. — Invention of the Steam-engine. 
— James Watt : His Industry and Habit of Attention. — The Cotton Man- 
ufacture. — The Early Inventors. — Arkwright: His Early Life. — Barber, 
Inventor and Manufacturer. — His Influence and Character. 390 



Contents. xi. 

CHAPTER XXXIY. 

LEADERS OF INDUSTRY — INVENTORS AND PRODUCERS. 

The Peels of South Lancashire.— The Founder of the Family.— The First 
Sir "Robert Peel, Cotton-printer. — Lady Peel. — Rev. William Lee, Inven- 
tor of the Stocking-frame. — Dies Abroad in Misery. — James Lee. — The 
Nottingham Lace Manufacture 404 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

LEADERS OP INDUSTRY — INVENTORS AND PRODUCERS. 

John Heathcoat, Inventor of the Bobbin-net Machine. — His Early Life. — 
Invention of his Machine. — Progress of the Lace-trade. — Heathcoat's 
Machines Destroyed by the Luddites. — His Character. — Jacquard: His 
Inventions and Adventures. — Vaucanson, his Mechanical Genius, Im- 
provements in Silk Manufacture. — The Jacquard Loom Adopted. — Joshua 
Heilman, Inventor of the Combing-machine. — History of the Invention. — 
Its Value ". 417 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

HELPS AND OPPORTUNITIES — SCIENTIFIC PURSUITS. 

No Great Result Achieved by Accident. — Newton's Discoveries. — Dr. Young. 
— Habit of Observing with Intelligence. — Galileo.— Philosophy in Little 
Things. — Discovery of Steam-power. — Opportunities Seized or Made. — 
Simple and Rude Tools of Great Workers.— Lee and Stone's Opportunities 
for Learning.— Sir Humphrey Davy.— Faraday.— Davy, Coleridge ...443 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

WORKERS IN ART. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds on the Power of Industry in Art.— Humble Origin of 
Eminent Artists. — Acquisition of Wealth not the Ruling Motive with 
Artists.— Michael Angelo on Riches.— Patient Labors of Michael Angelo 
and Titian.— West's Early Success a Disadvantage.— Hogarth a keen 
Observer.— Banks and Mulready.— Claude, Lorraine and Turner : Their 
Indefatigable Industry.— Perrier and Jacques Callot, and Their Visits to 
Rome.— Callot and the Gypsies.— Benvenuto Cellini.— Casting of His 
Statue of Perseus 45? 



xii. Contents. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

MEN OF BUSINESS. 

Hazlitt's Definition of the Man of Business.— The Chief Requisite Qualities 
— Men of Genius Men of Business. — Labor and Application Necessary to 
Success. — The School of Difficulty a Good School. — Conditions of Success 
in Law. — The Industrious Architect. — The Salutary Influence of Work. — 
Consequences of Contempt for Arithmetic— Practical Qualities Necessary 
in Business.— Importance of Accuracy. — Method. — Value of Time. — 
Promptitude. — Economy of Time. — Punctuality 479 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

MEN OF BUSINESS — EXAMPLES. 

'Firmness. — Tact. — Napoleon and Wellington, as Men of Business. — Napo- 
leon's Attention to Details. — The "Napoleon Correspondence." — Welling- 
ton's Business Faculty. — Wellington in the Peninsula. — "Honesty the 
best Policy." — Trade Tries Character. — Dishon3st Gains 496 

CHAPTER XL. 

MONEY — ITS USE AND ABUSE. 

The Right Use of Money a Test of Wisdom.— The Virtue of Self-denial.— 
Self-imposed Taxes. — Economy Necessary to Independence. — Helplessness 
of the Improvident. — Frugality an Important Public Question. — The 
Bondage of the Improvident. — Independence Attainable by Working Men. 
— Living within the Means. — Bacon's Maxim. — Running into Debt. — 
Haydon's Debts. — Dr. Johnson on Debt. — The Duke of Wellington on 
Debt.— Washington ._ 512 

CHAPTER XLI. 

MONEY — ITS USE AND ABUSE — EXAMPLES. 

Earl St. Vincent: his protested Bill. — Joseph Hume on living too high. — 
Ambition after Gentility. — Resistance to Temptation. — Hugh Miller's 
Case. — High Standard of Life necessary. — Proverbs on Money-making 
and Thrift 526 

CHAPTER XLII. 

ENERGY AND COURAGE. 

Energy Characteristic of the Teutonic Race.— The Foundations of Strength 
of Character. — Force of Purpose. — Concentration.— Courageous Work- 
ing.— Words of Hugh Miller and Fowell Buxton.— Power and Freedom 
of Will.— Words of Lamennais.— Suwarrow.— Napoleon and "Glory."— 
Wellington and ' ' Duty!' 534 



I 



Oontents- xiiL 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

SELF-CULTURE — FACILITIES AND DIFFICULTIES. 

Sir Walter Scott on Self-culture. — Active Employment salutary. — Import- 
ance of physical Health. — Early Labor. — Training in Use of Tools. — 
Healthiness of Great Men. — Labor conquers all Things. — Well-directed 
Labor. — The Virtue of patient Labor. — The right Use of Knowledge. — 
Books may impart learning, but well-applied Knowledge and Experience 
only exhibit Wisdom. — The Magna Charta Men. — Self-respect. — The 
Uses of Difficulty and Adversity. — Struggles with Difficulties 544 

CHAPTER XLIY. 

THRIFT — INDUSTRY. 

Private Economy. — Useful Labors. — Our Birthright. — Results of Labor. — 
Necessity for Labor. — Industry and Intellect. — Thrift and Civilization. 
—Thrifty Industry.— Thrifty Economy 564 

CHAPTER XLV. 

HABITS OF THRIFT. 

Workmen and Capital. — Habits of Economy. — Self-indulgence. — Results of 
Thriftlessness. — Uses of Saved Money. — Extravagant Living. — Bargain- 
buying.— Thrift and Unthrift.— Mortality.— Will Nobody Help Us?— 
Prosperous Times the Least Prosperous. — National Prosperity. — Moral 
Independence 576 

CHAPTER XL VI. 

LITTLE THINGS. 

Luck and Labor.— Neglect of Little Things.—" It will Do!"— Spending of 
Pennies.— The Thrifty Woman.— A Helpful Wife.— A Man's Daily Life. 

The Two Workmen. — Rights and Habits. — Influence of the' Wife. — A 

Penny a Day.— The Power of a Penny.— Roads and Railways.— Business 
Maxims, i. 599 

CHAPTER XLVn. ' 

COMPANIONSHIP IN MARRIAGE. 

Character Influenced by Marriage. — Mutual Relations of Man and Woman. 

Views of Woman's Character. — Early Education of the Sexes. — 

Woman's Aflectionateness. — The Sentiment of Love. — Love an Inspirer 
and Purifier. — Man in the Home. — The Golden Rule in Marriage 610 



xiv. Contents. 

CHAPTER XL VIII. 

MANNER. 

Manner the Grace of Character.— Influence of Manner.— Politeness.— " Eti- 
quette." — True Courtesy. — Practical Unpoliteness. — Indications of Self- 
respect - 618 

CHAPTER XLIX. 

COMPANIONSHIP OF BOOKS. — THE TRUE GENTLEMAN. 

Men are Known by the Books they Read. — Good Books the Best Society.— 
Interest of Biography. — The Great Lesson of Biography. — The Book of 
Books. — History and Biography. — Books the Inspirers of Youth. — Honor, 
Probity, Rectitude. — The Gentleman will not be bribed. — The poor in 
Purse may be rich in Spirit. — Use of Power, the Test of the Gentleman. — 
Fuller's Character of Sir Francis Drake 623 

CHAPTER L. 

HEALTHY HOMES. 

Healthy Existence.— Necessity for Pure Air.— Healthy Homes.— Influence 
of the Home.— intelligent Women.— Wholesome Dwellings 631 

CHAPTER LI. 

THE LAST. 

Youth and Old Age.— The Invisible Messenger.— Frederick the Great.— 
Sir Harry Vane.— Sir Walter Raleigh.— Sir John Moore.— Sir Walter 
Scott.— Jeremy Taylor on Life.— A Man's True Life.— Sir Francis of 
Assisi 635 





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CHAPTER I. 

HOME POWER. 

"So build we up the being that we are, 
Thus deeply drinking in the soul of things, 
We shall be wise perforce." — Wordsworth. 

Home makes the Man. — Domestic and Social Life. — The Child. — Surround- 
ings of Children. — Influence of the Mother. — Power of Example. — Civi- 
lization dependent on G-ood Women. — Boyhood of St. Augustine. — Influ- 
ence of Early Impressions. 

dTOME is the first and most important school of 
character. It is there that every human being 
receives his best moral training, or his worst; for it is 
there that he imbibes those principles of conduct which 
endure through manhood, and cease only with life. 

It is a common saying that " Manners make the 
man;" and there is a second, that "Mind makes the 
man;" but truer than either is a third, that "Home 
makes the man," For the home-training includes not 
only manners and mind, but character. It is mainly 
in the home that the heart is opened, the habits are 
formed, the intellect is awakened, and character mould- 
ed for good or for evil. 

From that source, b^ it pure or impure, issue the 
principles and maxims that govern society. Law itself 
2 17 



18 Home and Civilization. 

is but the reflex of homes. The tiniest bits of opinion 
sown in the minds of children in private life afterwards 
issue forth to the world, and become its public opinion; 
for nations are gathered out of nurseries, and they who 
hold the leading-strings of children may even exercise 
a greater power than those who wield the reins of 
government. 

It is in the order of nature that domestic life should 
be preparatory to social, and that the mind and charac- 
ter should first be formed in the home. There the in- 
dividuals who afterwards form society are dealt with in 
detail, and fashioned one by one. From the family they 
enter life, and advance from boyhood to citizenship. 
Thus the home may be regarded as the most influential 
school of civilization. For, after all, civilization mainly 
resolves itself into a question of individual training; and 
according as the respective members of society are well 
or ill trained in youth, so will the community which 
they constitute be more or less humanized and civil- 
ized. 

The training of any man, even the wisest, can not 
fail to be powerfully influenced by the moral surround 
ings of his early years. He comes into the world help- 
less, and absolutely dependent upon those about him 
for nurture and culture. From the very first breath 
that he draws, his education begins. When a mother 
once asked a clergyman when she should begin the edu- 
cation of her child, then four years old, he replied: 
" Madam, if you have not begun already, you have lost 



Domestic Training. 19 

those four years. From the first smile that gleams 
upon an infant's cheek, your opportunity begins.. 1 '' 

But even in this case the education had already be- 
gun; for the child learns by simple imitation, without 
effort, almost through the pores of the skin. " A fig- 
tree looking on a fig-tree becometh fruitful," says the 
Arabian proverb. And so it is with children; their first 
great instructor is example. 

However apparently trivial the influences which con- 
tribute to form the character of the child, they endure 
through life. The child's character is the nucleus of 
the man's; all after-education is but superposition; the 
form of the crystal remains the same. Thus the saying 
of the poet holds true in a large degree, " The child is 
father ot the man;" or, as Milton puts it, u The child- 
hood shows the man, as morning shows the day." 
Those impulses to conduct which last the longest and 
are rooted the deepest, always have their origin near 
our birth. It is then that the germs of virtues or vices, 
of feelings or sentiments, are first implanted which de- 
termine the character for life. 

The child is., as it were, laid at the gate of a new 
world, and opens his eyes upon things all of which are 
full of novelty and wonderment. At first it is enough 
for him to gaze; but by-and-by he begins to see, to ob- 
serve, to compare, to learn, to store up impressions and 
ideas; and under wise guidance the progress which he 
makes is really wonderful. Lord Brougham has ob- 
served that between the ages of eighteen and thirty 



20 Home Influences. 

months, a child learns more of the material world, of his 
own powers, of the nature of other bodies, and even of 
his own mind and other minds, than he acquires in all 
the rest of his life. The knowledge which a child ac- 
cumulates, and the ideas generated in his mind, during 
this period are so important, that if we could imagine 
them to be afterwards obliterated, all the learning of a 
senior wrangler at Cambridge, or a first-classman at 
Oxford, would be as nothing to it, and would literally 
not enable its object to prolong his existence for a week. 

It is in childhood that the mind is most open to im- 
pressions ; and ready to be kindled by the first spark 
that falls into it. Ideas are then caught quickly and 
live lastingly. Thus Scott is said to have received his 
first bent towards ballad literature from his mother's 
and grandmother's recitations in his hearing long be- 
fore he himself had learned to read. Childhood is like 
a mirror which reflects in after-life the images first pre- 
sented to it. The first thing continues forever with the 
child. The first joy, the first sorrow, the first success, 
the first failure, the first achievement, the first misad- 
venture, paint the foreground of his life. 

All this while, too, the training of the character is in 
progress — of the temper, the will, and the habits — on 
which so much of the happiness of human beings in 
after-life depends. Although man is endowed with a 
certain self-acting, self-helping power of contributing to 
his own development, independent of surrounding cir- 
cumstances, and of reacting upon the life around him, 



Surroundings of Children. 21 

the bias given to his moral character in early life is of 
immense importance. Place even the highest-minded 
philosopher in the midst of daily discomfort, immorali- 
ty, and vileness, and he will insensibly gravitate towards 
brutality. How much more susceptible is the impres- 
sionable and helpless child amidst such surroundings! 
It is not possible to rear, a kindly nature, sensitive to 
evil, pure in mind and heart, amidst coarseness, discom- 
fort, and impurity. 

Thus homes, which are the nurseries of children who 
grow up into men and women, will be good or bad ac- 
cording to the power that governs them. Where the 
spirit of love and duty pervades the home — where head 
and heart bear rule wisely there— where the daily life is 
honest and virtuous — where the government is sensible, 
kind, and loving, then may we expect from such a home 
an issue of healthy, useful, and happy beings, capable, as 
they gain the requisite strength, of following the foot- 
steps of their parents, of walking uprightly, governing 
themselves wisely, and contributing to the welfare of 
those about them. 

On the other hand, if surrounded by ignorance, coarse- 
ness, and selfishness, they will unconsciously assume the 
same character, and grow up to adult years rude, uncul- 
tivated, and all the more dangerous to society if placed 
amidst the manifold temptations of what is called civil- 
ized life. " Give your child to be educated by a slave," 
said an ancient Greek, " and, instead of one slave, you 
will then have two." 



22 Power of Example. 

The child can not help imitating what he sees. Every- 
thing is to him a model — of manner, of gesture, of 
speech, of habit, of character. " For the child," says 
Richter, " the most important era of life is that of child- 
hood, when he begins to color and mould himself by 
companionship with others. Every new educator effects 
less than his predecessor; until at last, if we regard all 
life as an educational institution, a circumnavigator of 
the world is less influenced by all the nations he has 
seen than by his nurse. Models are, therefore, of every 
importance in moulding the nature of the child; and if 
we would have fine characters, we must necessarily 
present before them fine models. Now, the model most 
constantly before every child's eye is the mother. 

One good mother, said George Herbert, is worth a 
hundred school-masters. In the home she is " loadstone 
to all hearts, and loadstar to all eyes." Imitation of her 
is constant — imitation, which Bacon likens to a " globe 
of precepts.'" But example is far more than precept. 
It is instruction in action. It is teaching without 
words, often exemplifying more than tongue can teach. 
In the face of bad example, the best of precepts are of 
but little avail. The example is followed, not the pre- 
cepts. Indeed, precept at variance with practice is 
worse than useless, inasmuch as it only serves to teach 
the most cowardly of vices— hypocrisy. Even children 
are judges of consistency, and the lessons of the parent 
who says one thing and does the opposite, are quickly 
seen through. The teaching of the friar was not worth 



Influence of Early Example. 2d 

much who preached the virtue of honesty with a 
stolen goose in his sleeve. 

By imitation of acts, the character becomes slowly 
and imperceptibly, but at length decidedly formed. 
The several acts may seem in themselves trivial ; but so 
are the continuous acts of daily life. Like snow-flakes 
they fall unperceived; each flake added to the pile pro- 
duces no sensible change, and yet the accumulation of 
snow-flakes makes the avalanche. So do repeated acts, 
one following another, at length become consolidated 
in habit, determine the action of the human being for 
good or for evil, and, in a word, form the character. 

It is because the mother, far more than the father, 
influences the action and conduct of the child, that her 
good example is of so much greater importance in the 
home. It is easy to understand how this should be so. 
The home is the woman's domain — her kingdom, where 
she exercises entire control. Her power over the little 
subjects she rules there is absolute. They look up to 
her for everything. She is the example and model 
constantly before their eyes, whom they unconsciously 
observe and imitate. 

Cowley, speaking of the influence of early example, 
and ideas early implanted in the mind, compares them 
to letters cut in the bark of a young tree, which grow 
and widen with age. The impressions then made, how- 
soever slight they may seem, are never effaced. The 
ideas then implanted in the mind are like seeds dropped 
into the ground, which lie there and germinate for a 



24 Maternal Love- 

time, afterwards springing up in acts and thoughts and 
habits. Thus the mother lives again in her children. 
They unconsciously mould themselves after her manner, 
her speech, her conduct, and her method of life. Her 
habits become theirs; and her character is visibly repeat- 
ed in them. 

This maternal love is the visible providence of our 
race. Its influence is constant and universal. It begins 
with the education of the human being at the outstart 
of life, and is prolonged by virtue of the powerful in- 
fluence which every good mother exercises over her 
children through life. When launched into the world, 
each to take part in its labors, anxieties, and trials, they 
still turn to their mother for consolation, if not for coun- 
sel, in their time of trouble and difficulty. The pure 
and good thoughts she has implanted in their minds 
when children continue to grow up into good acts long 
after she is dead; and when there is nothing but a mem- 
ory of her left, her children rise up and call her blessed. 

It is not saying too much to aver that the happiness 
or misery, the enlightenment or ignorance, the civiliza- 
tion or barbarism of the world, depends in a very high 
degree upon the exercise of woman's power within her 
special kingdom of home. Indeed, Emerson says, broad- 
ly and truly, that u a sufficient measure of civilization is 
the influence of good women. 1 ' Posterity may be said 
to lie before us in the person of the child in the mother's 
lap. What that child will eventually become, mainly 
depends upon the training and example which he has 



Boyhood of St Augustine, 25 

received from his first and most influential educator. 

Woman, above all other educators, educates humanly. 
Man is the brain, but woman is the heart of humanity : 
he its judgment, she its feeling; he its strength, she its 
grace, ornament, and solace. Even the understanding 
of the best woman seems to work mainly through her 
affections. And thus, though man may direct the intel- 
lect, woman cultivates the feelings, which mainly deter- 
mine the character. While he fills the memory, she 
occupies the heart. She makes us love what he can 
only make us believe, and it is chiefly through her that 
we are enabled to arrive at virtue. 

The respective influences of the father and the mother 
on the training and development of character are re- 
markably illustrated in the life of St. Augustine. While 
Augustine's father, a poor freeman of Thagaste, proud 
of his son's abilities, endeavored to furnish his mind 
with the highest learning of the schools, and was extolled 
by his neighbors for the sacrifices he made with that 
object " beyond the ability of his means " — his mother, 
Monica, on the other hand, sought to lead her son's mind 
in the direction of the highest good, and with pious care 
counseled him, entreated him, advised him to chastity, 
and, amidst much anguish and tribulation, because of 
his wicked life, never ceased to pray for him until her 
prayers were heard and answered. Thus her love at 
last triumphed, and the patience and goodness of the 
mother were rewarded, not only by the conversion of 
her gifted son, but also of her husband. Later in life 



26 Early Impressions. 

and after her husband's death, Monica, drawn by her 
affection, followed her son to Milan, to watch over him; 
and there she died, when he was in his thirty -third year. 
But it was in the earlier period of his life that her ex- 
ample and instruction made the deepest impression upon 
his mind, and determined his future character. 

There are many similar instances of early impressions 
made upon a child's mind springing up into good acts 
late in life, after an intervening period of selfishness 
and vice. Parents may do all that they can to develop 
an upright and virtuous character in their children, and 
apparently in vain. It seems like bread cast upon the 
waters and lost. And yet sometimes it happens that 
long after the parents have gone to their rest — it may 
be twenty years or more — the good precept, the good 
example set before their sons and daughters in child- 
hood, at length springs up and bears fruit. 

One of the most remarkable of such instances was 
that of the Rev. John Newton, of Olney, the friend 
of Cowper, the poet. It was long subsequent to the 
death of both his parents, and after leading a vicious 
life as a youth and as a seaman, that he became sudden- 
ly awakened to a sense of his depravity; and then it 
was that the lessons which his mother had given him 
when a child sprang up vividly in his memory. Her 
voice came to him as it were from the dead, and led 
him gently back to virtue and goodness. 

Another instance is that of John Randolph, the 
American statesman, who once said: " I should have 



Good Mothers. 27 

been an atheist if it had not been for one recollection — 
and that was the memory of the time when my departed 
mother used to take my little hand in hers, and cause 
me on my knees to say, ' Our Father who art in 
heaven!' " 

But such instances must, on the whole, be regarded 
as exceptional. As the character is biased in early life 
so it generally remains, gradually assuming its permanent 
form as manhood is reached. " Live as long as you 
may," said Southey, " the first twenty years are the long- 
est half of your life/' and they are by far the most preg- 
nant in consequences. When the worn out slanderer 
and voluptuary, Dr. Wolcot, lay on his death-bed, one of 
his friends asked if he could do anything to gratify 
him. " Yes," said the dying man, eagerly, "give me 
back my youth." Give him but that and he would 
repent — he would reform. But it was all too late. His 
life had become bound and inthralled by the chains of 
habit. 

Gretry, the musical composer, thought so highly of 
the importance of woman as an educator of character 
that he described a good woman as "Nature's chef- 
cPceuvre." And he was right: for good mothers, far 
more than fathers, tend to the perpetual renovation of 
mankind, creating as they do the moral atmosphere of 
the home, which is the nutriment of man's moral being 
as the physical atmosphere is of his corporeal frame 
By good temper, suavity and kindness, directed by in 
telligence, woman surrounds the in-dwellers with a per 



2$ 



The Poorest Dwelling. 



vading atmosphere of cheerfulness, contentment, and 
peace, suitable for the growth of the purest as of the 
manliest natures. 

The poorest dwelling presided over by a virtuous, 
thrifty, cheerful and cleanly woman, may thus be the 
abode of comfort, virtue and happiness; it may be the 
scene of every ennobling relation in family life; it may 
be endeared to a man by many delightful associations; 
furnishing a sanctuary for the heart, a refuge from the 
storms of life, a sweet resting place after labor, a conso- 
lation in misfortune, a pride in prosperity, and a joy at 
all times. 




CHAPTER II. 

HOMES THE BEST SCHOOLS. 

The best Nursery of Character. — Influence of Women. — Mothers of Great 
and Good Men. — Washington, Cromwell, Wellington, the Napiers. 

"The Mill-streams that turn the clappers of the world, arise in solitary 
places." — Helps. 

JTxHE good home is the best of schools, not only in 
-*- youth but in age. There young and old best 
learn cheerfulness, patience, self-control, and the spirit of 
service and of duty. Izaak Walton, speaking of George 
Herbert's mother, says she governed her family with 
judicious care, not rigidly nor sourly, " but with such a 
sweetness and compliance with the recreations and 
pleasures of youth, as did incline them to spend much 
of their time in her company, which was to her great 
content. " 

The home is the true school of courtesy, of which 
woman is always the best practical instructor. u With- 
out woman," says the Provencal proverb, " men were 
but ill-licked cubs." Philanthropy radiates from the 
home as from a centre. " To love the little platoon we 
belong to in society," said Burke, "is the germ of all 
public affections." The wisest and the best have not 

29 



30 The best Nursery of Character. 

been ashamed to own it to be their greatest joy and 
happiness to sit " behind the heads of children 1 ' in the 
inviolable circle of home, A life of purity and duty 
there is not the least effectual preparative for a life of 
public work and duty; and the man who loves his home 
will not the less fondly love and serve his country. 

But while homes, which are the nurseries of charac- 
ter, may be the best of schools, they may also be the 
worst. Between childhood and manhood how incalcu- 
lable is the mischief which ignorance in the home has 
the power to cause! Between the drawing of the first 
breath and the last, how vast is the moral suffering and 
disease occasioned by incompetent mothers and nurses! 
Commit a child to the care of a worthless, ignorant 
woman, and no culture in after life will remedy the evil 
you have done. Let the mother be idle, vicious, and a 
slattern; let her home be pervaded by cavilling, petu- 
lance, and discontent, and it will become a dwelling of 
misery — a place to fly from, rather than to fly to; and 
the children whose misfortune it is to be brought up 
there will be morally dwarfed and deformed — the cause 
of misery to themselves as well as to others. 

Napoleon Bonaparte was accustomed to say that 
" the future good or bad conduct of a child depended 
entirely on the mother." He himself attributed his 
rise in life in a great measure to the training of his will, 
his energy, and his self-control, by his mother at home. 
" Nobody had any command over him," says one of his 
biographers, " except his mother, who found means, by 



The Mother's Influence. 31 

a mixture of tenderness, severity and justice, to make 
him love, respect and obey her; from her he learnt 
the virtue of obedience.' 1 

A curious illustration of the dependence of the char- 
acter of children on that of the mother incidentally oc- 
curs in one of Mr. Tufnell's school-reports. The truth, 
he observes, is so well established that it has even been 
made subservient to mercantile calculation. u I was in- 
formed, 71 he says, kt in a large factory where many chil- 
dren were employed, that the managers before they en- 
gaged a boy, always inquired into the mother's char- 
acter, and if that was satisfactory they were tolerably 
certain that her children would conduct themselves 
creditably. No attention was -paid to the character of 
the father" 

It has also been observed that in cases where the fa- 
ther has turned out badly — become a drunkard and 
u gone to the dogs " — provided the mother is prudent 
and sensible, the family will be kept together, and the 
children probably make their way honorably in life; 
whereas in cases of the opposite sort, where the mother 
turns out badly, no matter how well-conducted the fa- 
ther may be, the instances of after-success in life on the 
part of the children are comparatively rare. 

The greater part of the influence exercised by wo- 
men on the formation of character necessarily remains 
unknown. They acomplish their best works in the 
quiet seclusion of the home and the family, by sustained 
effort and patient perse verence in the path of duty. 



o2 Power of Good Women. 

Their greatest triumphs, because private and domestic, 
are rarely recorded; and it is not often, even in the 
biographies of distinguished men, that we hear of the 
share which their mothers have had in the formation of 
their character, and in giving them a bias towards 
goodness. Yet are they not on that account without 
their reward. The influence they have exercised, 
though unrecorded, lives after them and goes on pro- 
pagating itself in consequences forever. 

We do not often hear of great women as we do of 
great men. It is of good women that we mostly hear; 
and it is probable that by determining the character of 
men and women for good, they are doing even greater 
work than if they were to paint great pictures, write 
great books, or compose great operas. " It is quite 
true," said Joseph de Maistre, "that women have pro- 
duced no chefs-de-oeuvre. They have written no ' Iliad,' 
nor 'Jerusalem Delivered,' nor ' Hamlet,' nor ' Phsedre,' 
nor ' Paradise Lost,' nor ' Tartuffe;" they have design- 
ed no Church of St. Peters, composed no ' Messiah,' 
carved no ' Apollo Belvedere,' painted no ' Last Judg- 
ment;' they have invented neither algebra, nor tele. 
scopes, nor steam-engines; but they have done some- 
thing far greater and better than all this, for it is at 
their knees that upright and virtuous men and women 
have been trained — the most excellent productions in 
the world." 

De Maistre, in his letters and writings, speaks of his 
own mother with immense love and reverence. Her 



Johnson and Washington. 33 

noble character made all other women venerable in his 
eyes. He described her as his " sublime mother " — " an 
angel to whom God had lent a body for a brief season.' 1 
To her he attributed the bent of his character, and all 
his bias towards good; and when he had grown to ma- 
ture years, while acting as ambassador at the Court of 
St. Petersburg, he referred to her noble example and 
precepts as the ruling influence in his life. 

One of the most charming features in the character 
of Samuel Johnson, notwithstanding his rough and 
shaggy exterior, was the tenderness with which he in- 
variably spoke of his mother — a woman of strong under- 
standing, who firmly implanted in his mind, as he him- 
self acknowledges, his first impressions of religion. He 
was accustomed even in the time of his greatest diffi- 
culties, to contribute largely, out of his slender means, 
to her comfort; and one of his last acts of filial duty 
was to write " Rasselas " for the purpose of paying her 
little debts and defraying her funeral charges. 

George Washington was only eleven years of age — 
the eldest of five children — when his father died, leaving 
his mother a widow. She was a woman of rare excel- 
lence — full of resources, a good woman of business, an 
excellent manager, and possessed of much strength of 
character. She had her children to educate and bring 
up, a large household to govern, and extensive estates 
to manage, all of which she accomplished with complete 
success. Her good sense, assiduity, tenderness, indus- 
try, and vigilance, enabled her to overcome every obsta- 
3 



34 Cromwell and Wellington* 

cle ; and, as the richest reward of her solicitude and toil, 
she had the happiness to see all her children come for- 
ward with a fair promise into life, filling the spheres al- 
lotted to them in a manner equally honorable to them- 
selves, and to the parent who had been the only guide 
of their principles, conduct, and habits. 

The biographer of Cromwell says little about the 
Protector's father, but dwells upon the character of his 
mother, whom he describes as a woman of rare vigor 
and decision of purpose: "A woman," he says, u pos- 
sessed of the glorious faculty of self-help when other 
assistance failed her; ready for the demands of fortune 
in its extremest adverse turn; of spirit and energy 
equal to her mildness and patience; who, with the la- 
bor of her own hands, gave dowries to five daughters 
sufficient to marry them into families as honorable but 
more wealthy than their own; whose single pride was 
honesty, and whose passion was love; who preserved in 
the gorgeous palace at Whitehall the simple tastes that 
distinguished her in the old brewery at Huntingdon; 
and whose only care, amidst all her splendor, was for 
the safety of her son in his dangerous eminence." 

We have spoken of the mother of Napoleon Bona- 
parte as a woman of great force of character. Not less 
so was the mother of the Duke of Wellington, whom 
her son strikingly resembled in features, person and 
character; while his father was principally distinguish- 
ed as a musical composer and performer. But strange 
to say, Wellington's mother mistook him for a dunce; 



Parents of the -N~apiers. 



35 



and, for some reason or other, he was not such a favor- 
ite as her other children, until his great deeds in after 
life constrained her to be proud of him. 

The Napiers were blessed in both parents, but es- 
pecially in their mother, Lady Sarah Lennox, who ear- 
ly sought to inspire her sons' minds with elevating 
thoughts, admiration of noble deeds, and a chivalrous 
spirit, which became embodied in their lives, and con- 
tinued to sustain them, until death, in the path of duty 
and of honor. 




CHAPTER III. 

MOTHERS OF GREAT LAWYERS AND STATESMEN. 

Curran and Adams. — The Wesleys. — Mothers of Poets. — Ary Scheffer's 
Mother. — Michelet's Tribute to his Mother. — Lord Byron. — The Footes. 
— Lamartine. 

" In the course of a conversation with Madame Campan, Napoleon Bona- 
parte remarked : ' The old systems of instruction seem to be worth nothing ; 
what is yet wanting in order that the people should be properly educated ? ' 
'Mothers,' replied Madame Campan. The reply struck the Emperor. 
' Yes,' said he, ' here is a system of education in one word. Be it your care, 
then, to train up mothers who shall know how to educate their children.' 
— Abie Martin. 

MONG statesmen, lawyers and divines, we find 
marked mention made of the mothers of Lord 
Chancellors Bacon, Erskine, and Brougham — all women 
of great ability, and, in the case of the first, of great 
learning; as well as of the mothers of Canning, Curran and 
President Adams — of Herbert, Paley and Wesley. Lord 
Brougham speaks in terms almost approaching reverence 
of his grandmother, the sister of Professor Robertson, 
as having been mainly instrumental in instilling into 
his mind a strong desire for information, and the first 
principles of that persevering energy in the pursuit of 
every kind of knowledge which formed his prominent 
characteristic throughout life. 

36 






Canning and Curran. 37 

Canning's mother was an Irishwoman of great natural 
ability, for whom her gifted son entertained the greatest 
love and respect to the close of his career. She was a 
woman of no ordinary intellectual power. " Indeed," 
says Canning's biographer, " were we not otherwise 
assured of the fact from direct sources, it would be im- 
possible to contemplate his profound and touching 
devotion to her, without being led to conclude that the 
object of such unchanging attachment must have been 
possessed of rare and commanding qualities. She was 
esteemed by the circle in which she lived as a woman 
of great mental energy. Her conversation was animated 
and vigorous, and marked by a distinct originality of 
manner, and a choice of topics fresh and striking, and 
out of the commonplace routine. To persons who 
were but slightly acquainted with her, the energy of 
her manner had even something of the air of eccen- 
tricity." 

Curran speaks with great affection of his mother, as 
a woman of strong original understanding, to whose 
wise counsel, consistent piety, and lessons of honorable 
ambition, which she diligently enforced on the minds 
of her children, he himself principally attributed his 
success in life. " The only inheritance/ ' he used to 
say, " that I could boast of from my poor father was 
the very scanty one of an unattractive face and person, 
like his own; and if the world has ever attributed to 
me something more valuable than face or person, or 
than earthly wealth, it .was that another and a dearer 



38 Mother of the Wesleys. 

parent gave her child a portion from the treasure of her 
mind.' 1 . 

When ex-President Adams was present at the ex- 
amination of a girl's school at Boston, he was presented 
by the pupils with an address which deeply affected 
him; and in acknowledging it, he took the opportunity 
of referring to the lasting influence which womanly 
training and association had excercised upon his own 
life and character. " As a child,'' he said, "I enjoyed 
perhaps the greatest of blessings that can be bestowed 
on man — that of a mother who was anxious and capa- 
ble to form the characters of her children rightly. 
From her I derived whatever instruction (religious 
especially, and moral) has pervaded a long life — I will 
not say perfectly, or as it ought to be; but I will say, 
because it is only justice to the memory of her I revere, 
that in the course of that life, whatever imperfection 
there has been, or deviation from what she taught me, 
the fault is mine, and not hers." 

The Wesleys were peculiarity linked to their parents 
by natural piety, though the mother, rather than the 
father, influenced their minds and developed their char- 
acters. The father was a man of strong will, but oc- 
casionally harsh and tyrannical in his dealings with his 
family; while the mother, with much strength of un- 
derstanding and ardent love of truth, was gentle, per- 
suasive, affectionate, and simple. She was the teacher 
and cheerful companion of her children, who gradually 
became moulded by her example. It was through the 



Mothers of Poets. 39 

bias given by her to her sons' minds in religious mat- 
ters that they acquired the tendency which, even in 
early years, drew to them the name of Methodists. In 
a letter to her son, Samuel Wesley, when a scholar at 
Westminster, in 1709, she said: " I would advise you as 
much as possible to throw your business into a certain 
method, by which means you will learn to improve 
every precious moment, and find an unspeakable facility 
in the performance of your respective duties." This 
" method, " she went on to describe, exhorting her son 
u in all things to act upon principle;" and the society 
which the brothers John and Charles afterwards found- 
ed at Oxford is supposed to have been in a great 
measure the result of her exhortations. 

In the case of poets, literary men, and artists, the in- 
fluence of the mother's feeling and taste has doubtless 
had great effect in directing the genius of their sons; 
and we find this especially illustrated in the lives of 
Gray, Thomson, Scott, Southey, Bulwer, Schiller, and 
Goethe. Gray, inherited almost complete, his kind 
and loving nature from his mother, while his father was 
harsh and unamiable. Gray was, in fact, a feminine man 
— shy reserved and wanting in energy — but thoroughly 
irreproachable in life and character. The poet's 
mother maintained the family after her unworthy hus- 
band deserted her; and, at her death, Gray placed 
on her grave, in Stoke Pogis, an epitaph describing her 
as " the careful, tender mother of man)* children, one 
of whom alone, had the misfortune to survive her." 



40 Ary Schefer's Mother. 

The poet himself was, at his own desire, interred beside 
her worshipped grave. 

Goethe, like Schiller, owed the bias of his mind and 
character to his mother, who was a woman of extraor- 
dinary gifts. She was full of joyous, flowing mother- 
wit, and possessed in a high degree the art of stimula- 
ting young and active minds, instructing them in the 
science of life out of the treasures of her abundant ex- 
perience. After a lengthened interview with her, an 
enthusiastic traveler said: u Now do I understand how 
Goethe has become the man he is.' 1 Goethe himself 
affectionately cherished her memory. u She was wor- 
thy of life!" he once said of her; and when he visited 
Frankfort he sought out every individual who had been 
kind to his mother and thanked them all. 

It was Ary Scheffer's mother — whose beautiful fea- 
tures the painter so loved to reproduce in his pictures 
of Beatrice, St. Monica and others of his works — that 
encouraged his study of art, and by great self-denial 
provided him with the means of pursuing it. While 
living at Dordrecht, in Holland, she first sent him to 
Lille to study, and afterwards to Paris ; and her letters 
to him, while absent, were always full of sound moth- 
erly advice, and affectionate womanly sympathv. u If 
you could but see me,' 1 she wrote on one occasion, 
" kissing your picture, then, after a while taking it up 
again, and, with a tear in my eye, calling you ' my be- 
loved son,' you would comprehend what it costs me to 
use sometimes the stern language of authority, and to 



The word Must 41 

occasion to you moments of pain Work dili- 
gently — be, above all, modest and humble: and when 
you rind yourself excelling others, then compare what 
you have done with Nature itself, or with the ' ideal ' 
of your own mind, and you will be secured, by the con- 
trast which will be apparent, against the effects of pride 
and presumption." 

Long years after, when Ary Scheffer was himself a 
grandfather, he remembered with affection the advice 
of his mother and repeated it to his children. And 
thus the vital power of good example lives on from 
generation to generation, keeping the world ever fresh 
and young. Writing to his daughter, Madame Marjolin, 
in 1846, his departed mother's advice recurred to him, 
and he said: " The word must — fix it well in your mem- 
mory, dear child; you grandmother seldom had it out 
of hers. The truth is, that through our lives nothing 
brings any good fruits except what is earned by either 
the work of the hands or by the exertion of one's self- 
denial. Sacrifices must, in short, be ever going on if 
we would obtain any comfort or happiness. Now that 
I am no longer young, I declare that few passages in 
my life afford me so much satisfaction as those in 
which I made sacrifices or denied myself enjoyments. 
' Das Entsagen ' (the forbidden) is the motto of the 
wise man. Self-denial is the quality oi which Jesus 
Christ set us the example. 11 

The French historian Michelet makes the following 
touching reference to his mother in the Preface to one 



42 Michelefs Tribute to his Mother. 

of his most popular books, the subject of much im- 
bittered controversy at the time at which it appeared: 

" While writing all this I have had in my mind a 
woman whose strong and serious mind would not have 
failed to support me in these contentions. I lost her 
thirty years ago (I was a child then) — nevertheless, 
ever living in my memory she follows me from age to 
age. 

" She suffered with me in my poverty and was not 
allowed to share my better fortune. When young, I 
made her sad, and now I cannot console her. I know 
not even where her bones are : I was too poor then to 
buy earth to bury her ! 

" And yet I owe her much. I feel deeply that I am 
the son of woman. Every instant, in my ideas and 
words (not to mention my features and gestures), I find 
again my mother in myself. It is my mother's blood 
which gives me the sympathy I feel for by-gone ages, 
and the tender remembrance of all those who are now 
no more. 

" What return, then, could I, who am myself advan- 
cing towards old age, make her for the man)' things I 
owe her? One, for which she would have thanked me 
— this protest in favor of women and mothers." 

But while a mother may greatly influence the poetic 
or artistic mind of her son for ^ood, she mav also in- 
fluence it for evil. Thus the characteristics of Lord 
Byron — the waywardness of his impulses, his defiance 
of restraint, the bitterness of his hate, and the precipi- 



Byron and Foote. 43 

tancy of his resentments — were traceable in no small de- 
gree to the adverse influences exercised upon his mind 
from his birth by his capricious, violent and headstrong 
mother. She even taunted her son with his personal 
deformity ; and it was no unfrequent occurrence, in the 
violent quarrels which occurred between them, for her 
to take up the poker or tongs and hurl them after him 
as he fled from her presence. It was this unnatural 
treatment that gave a morbid turn to Byron's after-life; 
and care-worn, unhappy, great, and yet weak, as he was, 
he carried about with him the mother's poison which 
he had sucked in his infancy. Hence he exclaims, in 
his "Childe Harold." 

" Yet must I think less wildly; I have thought 
Too long and darkly, till my brain became, 

In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought, 
A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame; 

A.nd thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame, 
My springs of life were poisoned" 

In like manner, though in a different way the char- 
acter of Mrs. Foote, the actor's mother, was curiously 
repeated in the life of her joyous, jovial-hearted son. 
Though she had been heiress to a large fortune, she 
soon spent it all, and was at length imprisoned for debt. 
In this condition she wrote to Sam, who had been al- 
lowing her a hundred a year out of the proceeds of his 
acting: "Dear Sam, I am in prison for debt; come 
and assist your loving mother, E. Foote.' 1 To which 
her son characteristically replied — " Dear mother, so am 
I; which prevents his duty being paid to his loving 
mother by her affectionate son, Sam Foote.' 1 



44 Lamartines Mother. 

A foolish mother may also spoil a gifted son by im- 
buing his mind with unsound sentiments. Thus Lamar- 
tine's mother is said to have trained him in altogether 
erroneous ideas of life, in the school of Rosseau and 
Bernardin de St. Pierre, by which his sentimentalism, 
sufficiently strong by nature, was exaggerated instead 
of repressed ; and he became the victim of tears, affec- 
tation, and improvidence all his life long. It almost 
savors of the ridiculous to find Lamartine, in his " Confi- 
dences," representing himself as a u statue of Adoles- 
cence raised as a model for young men."' 1 As he was 
his mother's spoilt child, so he was the spoilt child of 
his country to the end which was bitter and sad. 
Sainte-Beuve says of him : " He was the continual object 
of the richest gifts, which he had not the power of 
managing, scattering and wasting them — all excepting 
the gift of words, which seemed inexhaustible, and on 
which he continued to play to the end as on an enchant- 
ed flute. " 



CHAPTER IV. 

WOMEN AND BUSINESS HABITS. 

Education of Women. — Nations and Mothers. — True Sphere of Women. — 
Women and Work. — Women and the Art of Preparing Food. 

" Lord! with what care hast Thou begirt us round! 
Parents first season us. Then school-masters 
Deliver us to laws. They send us bound 
To rules of reason." — George Herbert. 

A "\ TE have spoken of the mother of Washington as an 
^ ^ excellent woman of business; and to possess such 
a quality as capacity for business is not only compatible 
with true womanliness, but is in a measure essential to 
the comfort and well being of every properly-governed 
family. Habits of business do not relate to trade merely, 
but apply to all the practical affairs of life — to every 
thing that has to be arranged, to be organized, to be 
provided for, to be done. And in all those respects the 
management of a family and of a household is as much 
a matter ol business as the management of a shop or of 
a counting-house. It requires method, accuracy, organ- 
ization, industry, economy, discipline, tact, knowledge, 
and capacity for adapting means to ends All this is of 

45 



46 Business Qualities Requisite. 

the essence of business; and hence business habits are 
as necessary to be cultivated by women who would suc- 
ceed in the affairs of home — in other words, who would 
make home happy — as by men in the affairs of trade, 
of commerce, or of manufacture. 

The idea has, however, heretofore prevailed, that 
women have no concern with such matters, and that 
business habits and qualifications relate to men only. 
Take, for instance, the knowledge of figures. Mr. 
Bright has said of boys, u Teach a boy arithmetic thor- 
oughly, and he is a made man." And why? — Because 
it teaches him method, accuracy, value, proportions, rela- 
tions. But how many girls are taught arithmetic well? 
— Very few indeed. And what is the consequence? 
When the girl becomes a wife, if she knows nothing of 
figures, and is innocent of addition and multiplication, 
she can keep no record of income and expenditure, and 
there will probably be a succession of mistakes commit- 
ted which may be prolific in domestic contention. The 
woman, not being up to her business — that is, the man- 
agement of her domestic affairs in conformity with the 
simple principles of arithmetic — will, through sheer 
ignorance, be apt to commit extravagances, though 
unintentional, which may be most injurious to her family 
peace and comfort. 

Method, which is the soul of business, is also of essen- 
tial importance in the home. Work can only be got 
through by method. Muddle flies before it, and hugger- 
mugger becomes a thing unknown. Method demands 



Habits of Business. 47 

punctuality, another eminently business quality. The 
unpunctual woman, like the unpunctual man, occasions 
dislike, because she consumes and wastes time, and 
provokes the reflection that we are not of sufficient 
importance to make her more prompt. To the business 
man, time is money; but to the business woman, method 
is more — it is peace, comfort, and domestic prosperity. 

Prudence is another important business quality in 
women, as in men. Prudence is practical wisdom, and 
comes of the cultivated judgment. It has reference in 
all things to fitness, to propriety; judging wisely of the 
right thing to be done, and the right way of doing it. It 
calculates the means, order, time, and method of doing. 
Prudence learns from experience, quickened by know- 
ledge. 

For these, among other reasons, habits of business 
are necessary to be cultivated by all women, in order to 
their being efficient helpers in the world's daily life and 
work. Furthermore, to direct the power of the home 
aright, women, as the nurses, trainers, and educators 
of children, need all the help and strength that mental 
culture can give them. 

Mere instinctive love is not sufficient. Instinct, which 
preserves the lower creatures, needs no training; but 
human intelligence, which is in constant request in a 
family, needs to be educated. The physical health of 
the rising generation is intrusted to woman by Provi- 
dence; and it is in the physical nature that the moral 
and mental nature lies enshrined. It is only by acting 



48 Woman's Intelligence. 

in accordance with the natural laws, which, before she 
can follow, woman must needs understand, that the bless- 
ings of health of bod)', and health of mind and morals, 
can be secured at home. Without a knowledge of such 
laws, the mother's love too often finds its recompense 
only in a child's coffin. 

It is a mere truism to say that the intellect with 
which woman as well as man is endowed has been given 
for use and exercise, and not "to fust in her unused." 
Such endowments are never conferred without a pur- 
pose. The Creator may be lavish in his gifts, but he 
is never wasteful. 

Woman was not meant to be either an unthinking 
drudge, or the merely pretty ornament of man's leisure. 
She exists for herself as well as for others; and the 
serious and responsible duties she is called upon to per- 
form in life require the cultivated head as well as the 
sympathizing heart. Her highest mission is not to be 
fulfilled by the mastery of fleeting accomplishments, on 
which so much useful time is now wasted; for, though 
accomplishments may enhance the charms of youth and 
beauty, of themselves sufficiently charming, they will be 
found of very little use in the affairs of real life. 

The highest praise which the ancient Romans could 
express of a noble matron was that she sat at home and 
span — ^ Do mum mansit, lanam fecit.*' In our own 
time it has been said that chemistry enough to keep the 
pot boiling, and geography enough to know the differ- 
ent rooms in her house, was science enough for any 



Education of Women. 49 

woman; while Byron, whose sympathies for woman 
were of a very imperfect kind, professed that he would 
limit her library to a Bible and a cookery-book. But 
this view of woman's character and culture is absurdly; 
narrow and unintelligent. 

Speaking generally, the training and discipline that 
are most suitable for the one sex in early life are also 
the most suitable for the other; and the education and 
culture that fill the mind of the man will prove equally 
wholesome for the woman. Indeed, all the arguments 
which have yet been advanced in favor of the higher 
education of men plead equally strongly in favor of the 
higher education of women. In all the departments of 
home, intelligence will add to woman's usefulness and 
efficiency. It will give her thought and forethought, 
enable her to anticipate and provide for the contingen- 
cies of life, suggest improved methods of management, 
and give her strength in every way. In disciplined 
mental power she will find a stronger and safer protec- 
tion against deception and imposture than in mere inno- 
cent and unsuspecting ignorance ; in moral and religious 
culture she will secure sources of influence more pow- 
erful and enduring than in physical attractions; and in 
due self-reliance and self-dependence she will discover 
the truest sources of domestic comfort and happiness. 

But while the mind and character of women ought to 
be cultivated with a view to their own well-being, they 
ought not the less to be educated liberally with a view 
to the happiness of others. Men themselves can not be 



50 Nations and Mothers. 

i 

sound in mind or morals if women be the reverse; and 
if, as we hold to be the case, the moral condition of a 
people mainly depends upon the education of the home, 
then the education of women is to be regarded as a 
matter of national importance. Not only does the moral 
character but the mental strength of man find its best 
safeguard and support in the moral purity and men- 
tal cultivation of woman; but the more completely the 
powers of both are developed, the more harmonious and 
well-ordered will society be — the more safe and certain 
its elevation and advancement. 

When, about fifty years since, the first Napoleon said 
that the great want of France was mothers, he meant, 
in other words, that the French people needed the edu- 
cation of homes, presided over by good, virtuous, intelli- 
gent women. Indeed, the first French Revolution pre- 
sented one of the most striking illustrations of the so- 
cial mischiefs resulting from a neglect of the purifying 
influence of women. When that great national out- 
break occurred, society was impenetrated with vice and 
profligacy. Morals, religion, virtue, were swamped by 
sensualism. The character of woman had become de- 
praved. Conjugal fidelity was disregarded; maternity 
was held in reproach; family and home were alike cor- 
rupted. Domestic purity no longer bound society to- 
gether. France was motherless; the children broke 
loose; and the Revolution burst forth, "amidst the yells 
and the fierce violence of women.' ' 

But the terrible lesson was disregarded, and again 



True Sphere of Women. 51 

and again France has grievously suffered from the want 
of that discipline, obedience, self-control, and self-respect 
which can only be truly learnt at home. It is said that 
the Third Napoleon attributed the recent powerlessness 
of France, which left her helpless and bleeding at the 
feet of her conquerors, to the frivolity and lack of prin- 
ciple of the people, as well as to their love of pleasure — 
which, however, it must be confessed, he himself did not 
a little to foster. It would thus seem that the disci- 
pline which France still needs to learn, if she would be 
good and great, is that indicated by the First Napoleon 
— home education by good mothers. 

The influence of woman is the same everywhere. 
Her condition influences the morals, manners, and char- 
acter of the people in all countries. Where she is de- 
based, society is debased; where she is morally pure 
and enlightened, society will be proportionately elevated. 

Hence, to instruct woman is to instruct man; to ele- 
vate her character is to raise his own; to enlarge her 
mental freedom is to extend and secure that of the 
whole community. For nations are but the outcomes 
of homes, and peoples of mothers. 

But while it is certain that the character of a nation 
will be elevated by the enlightenment and refinement 
of woman, it is much more than doubtful whether any 
advantage is to be derived from her entering into com- 
petition with man in the rough work of business. 
Women can no more do men's special work in the 
world than men can do women's. And wherever wo- 



52 Women and Work- 

man has been withdrawn from her home and family to 
enter upon other work, the'result has been socially dis- 
astrous. Indeed, the efforts of some of the best philan- 
thropists have of late years been devoted to withdraw- 
ing women from toiling alongside of men in coal-pits, 
factories, nail-shops, and brick-yards. 

It is still not uncommon in the north of England, for 
the husbands to be idle at home, while the mothers and 
daughters are working in the factory; the result being, 
in many cases, an entire subversion of family order, of 
domestic discipline, and of home rule. 

One special department of woman's work demanding 
the earnest attention of all true female reformers, though 
it is one which has hitherto been unaccountably neg- 
lected, is the better economizing and preparation of 
human food. If that man is to be regarded as a bene- 
factor of his species who makes two stalks of corn to 
grow where only one grew before, not less is she to be 
regarded as a public benefactor who economizes and 
turns to the best practical account the food-products of 
human skill and labor. The improved use of even our 
existing supply would be equivalent to an immediate 
extension of the cultivable acreage of our country— not 
to speak of the increase in health, economy, and do- 
mestic comfort. 



CHAPTER V. 

COMPANIONSHIP AND EXAMPLE. 

Influence of Companionship. — Force of Imitation. — Companionship of the 
Good. — Power of Associates. — Boyhood of Henry Martyn and of Dr. 
Paley. — Dr. Arnold an Exampler. 

"Keep good company, ana you shall be of the number." — George 
Herbert. 

/T\HE natural education of the Home is prolonged 
far into life — indeed, it never entirely ceases. But 
the time arrives, in the progress of years, when the home 
ceases to exercise an exclusive influence on the forma- 
tion of character; and it is succeeded by the more ar- 
tificial education of the school, and the companionship 
of friends and comrades, which continue to mould the 
character by the powerful influence of example. 

Men, young and old — but the young more than the 
old — can not help imitating those with whom they 
associate. It was a saying of George Herbert's mother, 
intended for the guidance of her sons, " that as our 
bodies take a nourishment suitable to the meat on 
which we feed, so do our souls as insensibly take in 
virtue or vice by the example or conversation of good 
or bad companv." 

53 



54 Influence of Companionship. 

Indeed, it is impossible that association with those 
about us should not produce a powerful influence in 
the formation of character. For men are by nature 
imitators, and all persons are more or less impressed 
by the speech, the manners, the gait, the gestures, and 
the very habits of thinking of their companions. " Is 
example nothing ?" said Burke. " It is every thing. 
Example is the school of mankind, and they will learn 
at no other." Burke's grand motto, which he wrote 
for the tablet of the Marquis of Rockingham, is worth 
repeating; it was, u Remember— resemble — perse- 
vere." 

Imitation is for the most part so unconscious, that its 
effects are almost unheeded, but its influence is not the 
less permanent on that account. It is only when an im- 
pressive nature is placed in contact with an impression- 
able one that the alteration in the character becomes 
recognizable. Yet even the weakest natures exercise 
some influence upon those about them. The approxi- 
mation of feeling, thought, and habit is constant, and 
the action of example unceasing. 

Emerson has observed that even old couples, or per- 
sons who have been house-mates for a course of years, 
grow gradually like each other; so that, if they were to 
live long enough, we should scarcely be able to know 
them apart. But if this be true of the old, how much 
more true is it of the young, whose plastic natures are 
so much more soft and impressionable, and ready to 



The Force of Imitation. 55 

take the stamp of the life and conversation of those 
about them ! 

a There has been," observed Sir Charles Bell in one 
of his letters, "a good deal said about education, but 
they appear to me to put out of sight example, which 
is all-in-all. My best education was the example set me 
by my brothers. There was, in all the members of the 
family, a reliance on self, a true independence, and by 
imitation I obtained it." 

It is in the nature of things that the circumstances 
which contribute to form the character should exercise 
their principal influence during the period of growth. 
As years advance, example and imitation become cus- 
tom, and gradually consolidate into habit, which is of so 
much potency that, almost before we know it, we have 
in a measure yielded up to it our personal freedom. 

It is related of Plato, that on one occasion he reproved 
a boy for playing at some foolish game. " Thou reprov- 
est me," said the boy, " for a very little thing." "But 
custom," replied Plato, " is not a little thing." Bad 
custom, consolidated into habit, is such a tyrant that 
men sometimes cling to vices even while they curse 
them. They have become the slaves of habits whose 
power they are impotent to resist. Hence Locke has 
said that to create and maintain that vigor of mind 
which is able to contest the empire of habit may be re- 
garded as one of the chief ends of moral discipline. 

Though much of the education of character by ex- 
ample is spontaneous and unconscious, the young need 



56 Companions! dp of the Good. 

not necessarily be the passive followers or imitators of 
those about them. Their own conduct, far more than 
the conduct of their companions, tends to fix the pur- 
pose and form the principles of their life. Each pos- 
sesses in himself a power of will and of free activity, 
which, if courageously exercised, will enable him to 
make his own individual selection of friends and asso- 
ciates. It is only through weakness of purpose that 
young people, as well as old, become the slaves of their 
inclinations, or give themselves up to a servile imitation 
of others. 

It is a common saying that men are known by the 
company they keep. The sober do not naturally asso- 
ciate with the drunken, the refined with the coarse, the 
decent with the dissolute. To associate with depraved 
persons argues a low taste and vicious tendencies, and 
to frequent their society leads to inevitable degradation 
of character. u The conversation of such persons,' 1 says 
Seneca, " is very injurious; for even if it does no imme- 
diate harm, it leaves its seeds in the mind, and follows 
us when we have gone from the speakers — a plague 
sure to spring up in future resurrection. 17 

If young men are wisely influenced and directed, and 
conscientiously exert their own free energies, they will 
seek the society of those better than themselves, and 
strive to imitate their example. In companionship 
with the good, growing natures will always find their 
best nourishment; while companionship with the bad 
will only be fruitful in mischief. There are persons 



The Uses of Association. ol 

whom to know is to love, honor, and admire; and 
others whom to know is to shun and despise — " dont le 
savoir n?est que beterie^ as says Rabelais when speak- 
ing of the education of Gargantua. Live with persons 
of elevated characters, and you will feel lifted and light- 
ed up in them: " Live with wolves, " says the Spanish 
proverb, "and you will learn to howl." 

Intercourse with even common place, selfish persons, 
may prove most injurious, by inducing a dry, dull, re- 
served, and selfish condition of mind, more or less inim- 
ical to true manliness and breadth of character. The 
mind soon learns to run in small grooves, the heart 
grows narrow and contracted, and the moral nature 
becomes weak, irresolute, and accommodating, which 
is fatal to all generous ambition or real excellence. 

On the other hand, association with persons wiser, 
better, and more experienced than ourselves, is always 
more or less inspiring and invigorating. They enhance 
our own knowledge of life. We correct our estimates 
by theirs, and become partners in their wisdom. We 
enlarge our field of observation through their eyes, 
profit by their experience, and learn not only from what 
they have enjoyed, but — which is still more instructive 
— from what they have suffered. If they are stronger 
than ourselves, we become participators in their strength. 
Hence companionship with the wise and energetic never 
fails to have a most valuable influence on the formation 
of character — increasing our resources, strengthening 
our resolves, elevating our aims, and enabling us to 



,58 Boyhood of Henry Marty n. 

exercise greater dexterity and ability in our own affairs 
as well as more effective helpfulness of others. 

*' I have often deeply regretted in myself," says Mrs. 
Schimmelpenninck, " the great loss I have experienced 
from the solitude of my early habits. We need no 
worse companion than our unregenerate selves, and, by 
living alone, a person not only becomes wholly ignorant 
of the means of helping his fellow-creatures, but is with- 
out the perception of those wants which most need 
help. Association with others, when not on so large a 
scale as to make hours of retirement impossible, may be 
considered as furnishing to an individual a rich multi- 
plied experience; and sympathy so drawn forth, though, 
unlike charity, it begins abroad, never fails to bring 
back rich treasures home. Association with others is 
useful also in strengthening the character, and in 
enabling us, while we never lose sight of our main 
object, to thread our way wisely and well." 

An entirely new direction may be given to the life of 
a young man by a happy suggestion, a timely hint, or 
the kindly advice of an honest friend. Thus the life 
of Henry Martyn, the Indian missionary, seems to have 
been singularly influenced by a friendship which he 
formed, when a boy, at Truro Grammar School. Mar- 
tyn himself was of feeble frame, and of a delicate nerv- 
ous temperament. Wanting in animal spirits, he took 
but little pleasure in school sports; and being of a 
somewhat petulant temper, the bigger boys took pleas- 
ure in provoking him, and some of them in bullying 



MartyrCs /School friend. 59 

him. One of the bigger boys, however, conceiving a 
friendship for Martyn, took him under his protection, 
stood between him and his persecutors, and not only 
fought his battles for him, but helped him with his les- 
sons. Though Martyn was rather a backward pupil, his 
father was desirous that he should have the advantage 
of a college education, and at the age of about fifteen 
he sent him to Oxford to try for a Corpus scholarship, 
in which he failed. He remained for two years more 
at the Truro Grammar School, and then went to Cam- 
bridge, where he was entered at St. John's College. 
Whom should he find already settled there as a student 
but his old champion of the Truro Grammar School? 
Their friendship was renewed; and the elder student 
from that time forward acted as the Mentor of the 
younger one. Martyn was fitful in his studies, excita- 
ble and petulant, and occasionally subject to fits of 
almost uncontrollable rage. His big friend, on the other 
hand, was a steady, patient, hard-working fellow; and 
he never ceased to watch over, to guide, and to advise 
for good his irritable fellow-student. He kept Martyn 
out of the way of evil company, advised him to work 
hard, " not for the praise of men, but for the glory of 
God;" and so successfully assisted him in his studies, 
that at the following Christmas examination he was the 
first of his year. Yet Martyn 's kind friend and Mentor 
never achieved any distinction himself; he passed away 
into obscurity, leading, most probably, a useful though 
an unknown career; his greatest wish in life having 



60 Br. Paley' s College Life, 

been to shape the character of his friend, to inspire his 
soul with the love of truth, and to prepare him for the 
noble work, on which he shortly after entered, of an 
Indian missionary. 

A somewhat similar incident is said to have occurred 
in the college career of Dr. Paley. When a student at 
Christ's College, Cambridge, he was distinguished for 
his shrewdness as well as his clumsiness, and he was at 
the same time the favorite and the butt of his com- 
panions. Though his natural abilities were great, he 
was thoughtless, idle, and a spendthrift; and at the 
commencement of his third year he had made compara- 
tively little progress. After one of his usual night-dis- 
sipations, a friend stood by his bedside on the following 
morning. "'Paley," said he, "I have not been able to 
sleep for thinking about you. I have been thinking 
what a fool you are ! / have the means of dissipation, 
and can afford to be idle ; you are poor, and can not afford 
it : / could do nothing, probably, even were I to try : 
you are capable of doing any thing. I have lain awake 
all night thinking about your folly, and I have now 
come solemnly to warn you. Indeed, if you persist in 
your indolence, and go on in this way, I must renounce 
your society altogether." 

It is said that Paley was so powerfully affected by 
this admonition, that from that moment he became an 
altered man. He formed an entirely new plan of life, 
and diligently persevered in it. He became one of the 
most industrious of students. One by one he distanced 



Dr. Arnold an Uxampler. 61 

his competitors, and at the end of the year he came out 
senior wrangler. What he afterwards accomplished as 
an author and a divine is sufficiently well known. 

No one recognized more fully the influence of per- 
sonal example on the } T oung than did Dr. Arnold. It 
was the great lever with which he worked in striving to 
elevate the character of his school. He made it his 
principal object, first to put a right spirit into the lead- 
ing boys by attracting their good and noble feelings; 
and then to make them instrumental in propagating the 
same spirit among the rest, by the influence of imita- 
tion, example, and admiration. He endeavored to make 
all feel that they were fellow-workers with himself, and 
sharers with him in the moral responsibility for the good 
government of the place. One of the first effects of this 
high-rninded system of management was, that it inspired 
the boys with strength and self-respect. They felt that 
they were trusted. There were, of course, mauvais sujets 
at Rugby, as there are at all schools; and these it was 
the master's duty to watch, to prevent their bad example 
contaminating others. " On one occasion he said to an 
assistant-master: u Do you see those two boys walking 
together? I never saw them together before. You 
should make an especial point of observing the company 
they keep: nothing so tells the changes in a boy's char- 
acter." 

Dr. Arnold's own example was an inspiration, as is 
that of every great teacher. In his presence, young 
men learned to respect themselves, and out of the root 



62 Power of Goodness. 

of self-respect there grew up the manly virtues. " His 
very presence, 7 ' says his biographer, " seemed to create 
a new spring of health and vigor within them, and to 
give to life an interest and elevation which remained 
with them long after they had left him; and dwelt so 
habitually in their thoughts as a living image, that, 
when death had taken him away, the bond appeared to 
be still unbroken, and the sense of separation almost lost 
in the still deeper sense of a life and a union indestruc- 
tible. ,1 And thus it was that Dr. Arnold trained a host 
of manly and noble characters, who spread the influence 
of his example in all parts of the world. 

So also was it said of Dugald Stewart, that he 
breathed the love of virtue into whole generations of 
pupils. " To me," says the late Lord Cockburn, "his 
lectures were like the opening of the heavens. I felt 
that I had a soul. His noble views, unfolded in glori- 
ous sentences, elevated me into a higher world. . . . 
They changed my whole nature." 

Character tells in all conditions of life. The man of 
good character in a workshop will give the tone to his 
fellows, and elevate their entire aspirations. Thus 
Franklin, while a workman in London, is said to have 
reformed the manners of an entire workshop. So the 
man of bad character and debased energy will uncon- 
sciously lower and degrade his fellows. Captain John 
Brown — the " marching-on Brown" — once said to Em- 
erson, that " for a settler in a new country, one good 
believing man is worth a hundred, nay, worth a thou- 



Poiver of Goodness 



63 



sand men without character. 1 ' His example is so con- 
tagious, that all other men are directly and beneficially 
influenced by him, and he insensibly elevates and lifts 
them up to his own standard of energetic activity. 




CHAPTER VI. 

POWER OF GOOD EXAMPLE. 

High Standard of Living. — The Inspiration of Goodness. — Admiration 
of Good Men. — Influence of Gentle Natures. — Sir W. Napier. — Energy 
evokes Energy. — Radiating Force of Great Minds. — Admire Nobly. — 
Johnson and Boswell. 

' ' For mine own part, 
I shall be glad to learn of noble men." — Shakespeare. 

/COMMUNICATION with the good is invariably 
^ productive of good. The good character is diffu- 
sive in his influence. " I was common clay till roses 
were planted in me," says some aromatic earth in the 
Eastern fable. Like begets like, and good makes good. 
" It is astonishing," says Canon Moseley, " how much 
good goodness makes. Nothing that is good is alone, 
nor any thing bad; it makes others good or others bad; 
and that other, and so on: like a stone thrown into a 
pond, which makes circles that make other wider ones, 
and then others, till the last reaches the shore. .... 
Almost all the good that is in the world has, I suppose, 
thus come down to us traditionally from remote times, 
and often unknown centres of good. So Mr. Ruskin 
says, " That which is born of evil begets evil; and that 
which is born of valor and honor teaches valor and honor. " 

64 



High Standard of Life. 0*5 

Hence it is that the life of every man is a daily incul- 
cation of good or bad example to others. The life of a 
good man is at the same time the most eloquent lesson 
of virtue and the most severe reproof of vice. Dr # 
Hooker described the life of a pious clergyman of his 
acquaintance as " visible rhetoric," convincing even the 
most godless of the beauty of goodness. And so the 
good George Herbert said, on entering upon the duties 
of his parish: " Above all, I will be sure to live well, 
because the virtuous life of a clergyman is the most 
powerful eloquence to persuade all who see it to rever- 
ence and love, and at least to desire to live like him. 
And this I will do," he added, " because I know we live 
in an age that hath more need of good examples than 
precepts." It was a fine saying of the same good 
priest, when reproached with doing an act of kindness 
to a poor man considered beneath the dignity of his 
office — that the thought of such actions " would prove 
music to him at midnight." Izaak Walton speaks of a 
letter written by George Herbert to Bishop Andrewes 
about a holy life, which the latter "put into his bosom," 
and, after showing it to his scholars, " did always return 
it to the place where he first lodged it, and continued 
it so, near his heart, till the last day of his life." 

Great is the power of goodness to charm and to com- 
mand. The man inspired by it is the true king of men, 
drawing all. hearts after him. When General Nicholson 
lay wounded on his death-bed before Delhi, he dictated 
this last message to his equally noble and gallant friend, 
5 



$Q The Inspiration of Goodness. 

Sir Herbert Edwardes: " Tell him/' said he, " I should 
have been a better man if I had continued to live with 
him, and our heavy public duties had not prevented my 
seeing more of him privately. I was always the better 
for a residence with him and his wife, however short. 
Give my love to them both I M 

There are men in whose presence we feel as if we 
breathed a spiritual ozone, refreshing and invigorating, 
like inhaling mountain air, or enjoying a bath of sun- 
shine. The power of Sir Thomas More's gentle nature 
was so great that it subdued the bad at the same time 
that it inspired the good. Lord Brooke said of his 
deceased friend, Sir Philip Sidney, that " his wit and 
understanding beat upon his heart, to make himself and 
others, not in word or opinion, but in life and action, 
good and great." 

The very sight of a great and good man is often an 
inspiration to the young, who cannot help admiring and 
loving the gentle, the brave, the truthful, the magnani- 
mous ! Chateaubriand saw Washington only once, but 
it inspired him for life. After describing the interview, 
he says: "Washington sank into the tomb before any 
little celebrity had attached to my name. I passed 
before him as the most unknown of beings. He was in 
all his glory — I in the depth of my obscurity. My 
name probably dwelt not a whole day in his memory. 
Happy, however, was I that his looks were cast upon 
me. I have felt warmed for it all the rest of my life. 
There is a virtue even in the looks of a £reat man." 



The Inspiration of Goodness. 67 

When Niebuhr died, his friend, Frederick Perthes, 
said of him: t; What a contemporary! The terror of 
all bad and base men, the stay of all the sterling and 
honest, the friend and helper of youth." Perthes said 
on another occasion: "It does a wrestling man good 
to be constantly surrounded by tried wrestlers; evil 
thoughts are put to flight when the eye falls on the 
portrait of one in whose living presence one would have 
blushed to own them." A Catholic money-lender, when 
about to cheat, was wont to draw a veil over the picture 
of his favorite saint. So Hazlitt has said of the portrait 
of a beautiful female, that it seemed as if an unhand- 
some action would be impossible in its presence. " It 
does one good to look upon his manly, honest face," said 
a poor German woman, pointing to a portrait of the 
great Reformer hung upon the wall of her humble 
dwelling. 

Even the portrait of a noble or a good man, hung up 
in a room, is companionship after a sort. It gives us a 
closer personal interest in him. Looking at the features, 
we feel as if we knew him better, and were more nearly 
related to him. It is a link that connects us with a 
higher and better nature than our own. And though 
we may be far from reaching the standard of our hero, 
we are, to a certain extent, sustained and fortified by 
his depicted presence constantly before us. 

Fox was proud to acknowledge how much he owed 
to the example and conversation of Burke. On one 
occasion he said of him, that " if he was to put all the 



68 Admiration of the Good. 

political information he had gained from books, all that 
he had learned from science, or that the knowledge of 
the world and its affairs taught him, into one scale, and 
the improvement he had derived from Mr. Burke's con- 
versation and instruction into the other, the latter would 
preponderate." 

Professor Tyndall speaks of Faraday's friendship as 
" energy and inspiration/ 7 After spending an evening 
with him, he wrote: " His work excites admiration, but 
contact with him warms and elevates the heart. Here, 
surely, is a strong man. I love strength, but let me not 
forget the example of its union with modesty, tender 
ness, and sweetness, in the character of Faraday. 11 

Even the gentlest natures are powerful to influence 
the character of others for good. Thus Wordsworth 
seems to have been especially impressed by the charac- 
ter of his sister Dorothy who exercised upon his mind 
and heart a lasting influence. He describes her as the 
blessing of his boyhood as well as of his manhood. 
Though two years younger than himself, her tenderness 
and sweetness contributed greatly to mould his nature, 
and open his mind to the influences of poetry : 

" She gave me eyes, she gave me ears, 
And humble cares, and delicate fears ; 
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears, 
And love^ and thought, and joy." 

Thus the gentlest natures are enabled, by the power of 
affection and intelligence, to mould the characters of 



Influence of Gentle Natures (59 

men destined to influence and elevate their race through 
all time. 

Sir William Napier attributed the early direction of 
his character first to the impress made upon it by his 
mother, when a boy, and afterwards to the noble exam- 
ple of his commander, Sir John Moore, when a man. 
Moore early detected the qualities of the young officer; 
and he was one of those to whom the general addressed 
the encouragement, " Well done, my majors !" at 
Corunna. Writing home to his mother, and describing 
the little court by which Moore was surrounded, he 
wrote, u Where shall we find such a king ?" It was 
to his personal affection for his chief that the world is 
mainly indebted to Sir William Napier for his great 
book, " The History of the Peninsular War." But he 
was stimulated to write the book by the advice of 
another friend, the late Lord La.ngdale, while one day 
walking with him across the fields on which Belgravia 
is now built. " It was Lord Langdale," he says, " who 
first kindled the fire within me." And of Sir William 
Napier himself, his biographer truly says, that "no 
thinking person could ever come in contact with him, 
without being strongly impressed with the genius of the 
man."' 1 

The career of the late Dr. Marshall Hall was a life- 
long illustration of the influence of character in forming 
character. Many eminent men still living trace their 
success in life to his suggestions and assistance, without 
which several valuable lines of study and investigation 



70 Energy evokes Energy. 

might not have been entered on, at least at so early a 
period. He would say to young men about him, " Take 
up a subject and pursue it well, and you can not fail to 
succeed.' And often he would throw out a new idea 
to a young friend, saying, " I make you a present of it; 
there is fortune in it, if you pursue it with energy." 

Energy of character has always a power to evoke 
energy in others. It acts through sympathy, one of the 
most influential of human agencies. The zealous, ener- 
getic man unconsciously carries others along with him. 
His example is contagious, and compels imitation. He 
exercises a sort of electric power, which sends a thrill 
through every fibre, flows into the nature of those 
about him, and makes them give out sparks of fire. 

Dr. Arnold's biographer, speaking of the power of 
this kind exercised by him over young men, says: u It 
was not so much an enthusiastic admiration for true 
genius, or learning, or eloquence, which stirred within 
them; it was a sympathetic thrill, caught from a spirit 
that was earnestly at work in the world — whose work 
was healthy, sustained, and constantly carried forward 
in the fear of God — a work that was founded on a deep 
sense of its duty and its value." 

Such a power, exercised by men of genius, evokes 
courage, enthusiasm and devotion. It is this intense 
admiration for individuals — such as one can not con- 
ceive entertained for a multitude — which has in all 
times produced heroes and martyrs. It is thus that 
the mastery of character makes itself felt. It acts by 



Admire Nobly. 71 

inspiration, quickening and vivifying the natures sub- 
ject to its influence. 

Great minds are rich in radiating force, not only ex- 
erting power, but communicating and even creating it. 
Thus Dante raised and drew after him a host of great 
spirits — Petrarch, Boccacio, Tasso, and many more. 
From him Milton learnt to bear the stings of evil 
tongues and the contumely of evil days; and long 
years after, Byron, thinking of Dante under the pine- 
trees of Ravenna, was incited to tune his harp to loftier 
strains than he had ever attempted before. Dante 
inspired the greatest painters of Italy — Giotto, Orcagna, 
Michael Angelo, and Raphael. So Ariosto and Titian 
mutually inspired one another, and lighted up each 
other's glory. 

Great and good men draw others after them, exciting 
the spontaneous admiration of mankind. This admira- 
tion of noble character elevates the mind, and tends to 
redeem it from the bondage of self, one of the greatest 
stumbling blocks to moral improvement. The recollec- 
tion of men who have signalized themselves by great 
thoughts or great deeds seems as if to create for the 
time a purer atmosphere around us: and "we feel as if 
our aims and purposes were unconsciously elevated. 

" Tell me whom you admire," said Sainte-Beuve, 
u and I will tell you what you are, at least as regards 
your talents, tastes, and character." Do you admire 
mean men? — your own nature is mean. Do you admire 
rich men? — you are of the earth, earthy. Do you ad- 



72 Nil Admirari. 

mire men of title? — you are a toad-eater, or a tuft- 
hunter. Do you admire honest, brave, and manly 
men ? — you are yourself of an honest, brave, and manly 
spirit. 

It is in the season of youth, while the character is 
forming, that the impulse to admire is the greatest. 
As we advance in life we crystallize into habit ; and 
u Nil admit art " too often becomes our motto. It is 
well to encourage the admiration of great characters 
while the nature is plastic and open to impressions; for 
if the good are not admired — as young men will have 
their heroes of some sort — most probably the great bad 
may be taken by them for models. Hence it always 
rejoiced Dr. Arnold to hear his pupils expressing admi- 
ration of great deeds, or full of enthusiasm for persons 
or even scenery. " I believe," said he, " that ' Nil ad- 
mirari 1 is the devil's favorite text; and he could not 
choose a better to introduce his pupils into the more 
esoteric parts of his doctrine. And therefore I have 
always looked upon a man infected with the disorder of 
anti-romance as one who has lost the finest part of his 
nature, and his best protection against everything low 
and foolish. 

"No quality," said Dr. Johnson, "will get a man 
more friends than a sincere admiration of the qualities 
of others. It indicates generosity of nature, frankness, 
cordiality, and cheerful recognition of merit." It was 
to the sincere — it might almost be said the reverential — 
admiration of Johnson by Boswell, that we owe one of 



Johnson and Boswell. 73 

the best biographies ever written. One is disposed to 
think that there must have been some genuine good 
qualities in Boswell to have been attracted by such a 
man as Johnson, and to have kept faithful to his wor 
ship in spite of rebuffs and snubbings innumerable 
Macaulay speaks of Boswell as an altogether contempt 
ible person — as a coxcomb and a bore — weak, vain 
pushing, curious, garrulous; and without wit, humor 
or eloquence. But Carlyle is doubtless more just in 
his characterization of the biographer, in whom — vain 
and foolish though he was in many respects — he sees a 
man penetrated by the old reverent feeling of disciple- 
ship, full of love and admiration for true wisdom and 
excellence. Without such qualities, Carlyle insists, the 
" Life of Johnson" never could have been written. 
" Boswell wrote a good book," he says, u because he 
had a heart and an eye to discern wisdom, and an ut- 
terance to render it forth; because of his free insight, 
his lively talent, and above all, of his love and child-like 
open-mindedness. " 




CHAPTER VII. 

YOUNG MEN'S HEROES. 

'The Envy of Small Minds. — Admiration and Imitation. — The Great Musi- 
cians. — Masters and Disciples. — Enduringness of Good Example. — Con- 
solations of a well-spent Life. 

' ' Examples preach to the eye — care, then, mine says, 
Not how you end, but how you spend your days." 

— Henry Martyn, "Last Thoughts" 

MOST young men of generous mind have their 
heroes, especially if they be book readers. Thus 
Allan Cunningham, when a mason's apprentice in 
Nithsdale, walked all the way to Edinburgh for the sole 
purpose of seeing Sir Walter Scott as he passed along 
the street. We unconsciously admire the enthusiasm 
of the lad, and respect the impulse which impelled him 
to make the journey. It is related of Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds, that, when a boy of ten, he thrust his hand 
through intervening rows of people to touch Pope, as 
if there were a sort of virtue in the contact. At a 
much later period, the painter Haydon was proud to see 
and to touch Reynolds when on a visit to his native 
place. Rogers the poet used to tell of his ardent desire, 
when a boy, to see Dr. Johnson; but when his hand 
74 



The Envy of Small Minds. 75 

was on the knocker of the house in Bolt Court, his 
courage failed him, and he turned away. So the late 
Isaac Disraeli, when a youth, called at Bolt Court for 
the same purpose; and though he had the courage 
to knock, to his dismay he was informed by the servant 
that the great lexicographer had breathed his last only 
a few hours before. 

On the contrary, small and ungenerous minds can not 
admire heartily. To their own great misfortune, they 
can not recognize, much less reverence, great men and 
great things. The mean nature admires meanly. The 
toad's highest idea of beauty is his toadness. The small 
snob's highest idea of manhood is the great snob. The 
slave-dealer values a man according to his muscles. 
When a Guinea trader was told by Sir Godfrey Knel- 
ler, in the presence of Pope, that he saw before him two 
of the greatest men in the world, he replied: " I don't 
know how great you may be, but I don't like your 
looks. I have often bought a man much better than 
both of you together, all bones and muscles, for ten 
guineas!" 

Although Rochefoucauld, in one of his maxims, says 
that there is something that is not altogether disagree- 
able to us in the misfortunes of even our best friends, 
it is only the small and essentially mean nature that 
finds pleasure in the disappointment, and annoyance at 
the success, of others. There are, unhappily for them- 
selves, persons so constituted that they have not the 
heart to be generous. The most disagreeable of all 



76 The Envy of Small Minds* 

people are those who " sit in the seat of the scorner." 

Persons of this sort often come to regard the success of 

others, even in a good work, as a kind of personal 

offense. They can not bear to hear another praised, 

especially if he belong to their own art, or calling, or 

profession. They will pardon a man's failures, but can 

not forgive his doing a thing better than they can do. 

And where they have themselves failed, they are found 

to be the most merciless of detractors. The sour critic 

thinks of his rival : 

" When Heaven with such parts has blest him, 
Have I not reason to detest him ? " 

The mean mind occupies itself with sneering, carping, 
and fault-finding, and is ready to scoff at everything 
but impudent effrontery or successful vice. The great- 
est consolation of such persons are the defects of men 
of character. "If the wise erred not," says George 
Herbert, " it would go hard with fools." Yet, though 
wise men may learn of fools by avoiding their errors, 
fools rarely profit by the example which wise men set 
them. A German writer has said that it is a miserable 
temper that cares only to discover the blemishes in the 
character of great men or great periods. Let us rather 
judge them with the charity of Bolingbroke, who, when 
reminded of one of the alleged weaknesses of Marlbor- 
ough, observed, " He was so great a man that I forgot 
he had that defect." 

Admiration of great men, living or dead, naturally 
evokes imitation of them in a greater or less degree. 



Admiration and Imitation. 77 

While a mere youth, the mind of Themistocles was 
fired, by the great deeds of his contemporaries, and he 
longed to distinguish himself in the service of his coun- 
try. When the battle of Marathon had been fought, 
he fell into a state of melancholy; and when asked by 
his friends as to the cause, he replied " that the trophies 
of Miltiades would not suffer him to sleep.*" A few 
years later, we find him at the head of the Athenian 
army, defeating the Persian fleet of Xerxes in the bat- 
tles of Artemisium and Salamis — his country gratefully 
acknowledging that it had been saved through his wis- 
dom and valor. 

It is related of Thucydides that, when a boy, he burst 
into tears on hearing Herodotus read his history, and 
the impression made upon his mind was such as to de- 
termine the bent of his own genius. And Demosthenes 
was so tired on one occasion by the eloquence of Callis- 
tratus, that the ambition was roused within him of be- 
coming an orator himself. Yet Demosthenes was phys- 
ically weak, had a feeble voice, indistinct articulation, 
and shortness of breath — defects which he was only en- 
abled to overcome by diligent study and invincible de- 
termination. But, with all his practice, he never became 
a ready speaker; all his orations, especially the most 
famous of them, exhibiting indications of careful 
elaboration — the art and industry of the orator being 
visible in almost every sentence. 

Similar illustrations of.character imitating character, 
and moulding itself by the style and manner and genius 



7s Haydn and Porpora. 

of great men, are to be found pervading all history. 
Warriors, statesmen, orators, patriots, poets, and artists 
— all have been, more or less unconsciously, nurtured by 
the lives and actions of others living before them or 
presented for their imitation. 

Great men have evoked the admiration of kings, 
popes, and emperors. Francis de Medicis never spoke 
to Michael Angelo without uncovering, and Julius III. 
made him sit by his side while a dozen cardinals were 
standing. Charles V. made way for Titian; and one 
day, when the brush dropped from the painter's hand, 
Charles stooped and picked it up, saying, " You deserve 
to be served by an emperor." Leo X. threatened with 
excommunication whoever should print and sell the 
poems of Ariosto, without the author's consent. The 
same pope attended the death-bed of Raphael, as Fran- 
cis I. did that of Leonardo da Vinci. 

Though Haydn once archly observed that he was 
loved and esteemed by everybody except professors 
of music, yet all the greatest musicians were unusually 
ready to recognize each other's greatness. Haydn him- 
self seems to have been entirely free from petty jeal- 
ousy. His admiration of the famous Porpora was such, 
that he resolved to gain admission to his house and 
serve him as a valet. Having made the acquaintance 
of the family with whom Porpora lived, he was allowed 
to officiate in that capacity. Early each morning he 
took care to brush the veteran's coat, polish his shoes, 
and put his rusty wig in order. At first Porpora growl- 



I M 79* 

ed at the intruder, but his asperity soon softened, and 
eventually melted into affection. He quickly discovered 
his valet 7 s genius, anc directed it 

into the line in which Haydn eventually acquired so- 
rr.Uwh ::: ; :: ::::n. 

Haydn himself w : e r n: r. : :. Et: c in h i = admiration of 
Handel. M He is the father of us all," 7 he said on one 
occasion. Scarlatti followed Handel in admiration ail 
over Italy, and, when his name was mentioned, he cross- 
ed himself in token c: :ion. Mozart 7 s recogni- 
tion of the great compose: : less hearty. " When 
he cho-: s • Handel strikes like the thunder- 
z :'.:" Beethoven hailed him as " the monarch of the 
musical kingdom/ ' Beethoven was dying, one 
of his friends sent him a present of Handel's works, in 
forty volumes. They were brought into his chamber, 
ar.d. iizir.r :~ :htm :-';-'r. ztr-r.-.z:. -.::-:". ±; r. ht rx_'.:.:r:;e'i. 
pointing at them with his finger I bere — there is the 

Haydn not only recognized the genius of the great 
men who had passed : ; ung contempo- 

raries, Mozart and Beethoven. Small men may be en- 
vious of their fellows, but really great men seek out and 
love each othe I rote: 1 1 only 

wish I could impress on e end of music, and on 

great men in particular _ - ame depth of musical sym- 
pathy, and profound appreciation of Mozart's inimitable 
music, that I myself feel and e hen nations would 

vie with each other to po- in their 



SO Masters and Disciples. 

frontiers. Prague ought not only to strive to retain 
this precious man, but also to remunerate him; for 
without this the history of a great genius is sad indeed. 

It enrages me to think that the unparalleled 

Mozart is not yet engaged by some imperial or royal 
court. Forgive my excitement; but I love the man so 
dearly!" ' . 

Mozart was equally generous in his recognition of the 
merits of Haydn. "Sir," said he to a critic, speaking 
of the latter, " if you and I were both melted down to- 
gether, we should not furnish materials for one Haydn." 
And when Mozart first heard Beethoven, he observed : 
" Listen to that young man; be assured that he will yet 
make a great name in the world." 

BufFon set Newton above all other philosophers, and 
admired him so highly that he had always his portrait 
before him while he sat at work. So Schiller looked up 
to Shakespeare, whom he studied reverently and zealous- 
ly for years, until he became capable of comprehending 
nature at first hand and then his admiration became, 
even more ardent than before. 

Pitt was Canning's master and hero, whom he follow- 
ed and admired with attachment and devotion. " To 
one man while he lived," said Canning, " I was devoted 
with all my heart and all my soul. Since the death 
of Mr. Pitt I acknowledge no leader; my political alle- 
giance lies buried in his grave. 

A French physiologist, M. Roux, was occupied one 
day in lecturing to his pupils, when Sir Charles Bell, 



Consolation of a Well-spent Life. 81 

whose discoveries were even better known and more 
highly appreciated abroad than at home, strolled into 
his class-room. The professor, recognizing his visitor, 
at once stopped his exposition, saying, " Messieurs, c^est 
assez pour aujourcPhui, vous avez vu Sir Charles 
Belly 

The first acquaintance with a great work of art has 
usually proved an important event in every young 
artist's life. When Correggio first gazed on Raphael's 
" Saint Cecilia," he felt within himself an awakened 
power, and exclaimed, "And I too am a painter! " So 
Constable used to look back on his first sight of Claude's 
picture of " Hagar " as forming an epoch in his career. 
Sir George Beaumont's admiration of the same picture 
was such that he always took it with him in his carriage 
when he traveled from home. 

The examples set by the great and good do not die; 
they continue to live and speak to all the generations 
that succeed them. It was very impressively observed 
by Mr. Disraeli, in the House of Commons, shortly 
after the death of Mr. Cobden: 

" There is this consolation remaining to us, when we 
remember our unequaled artd irreparable losses, that 
those great men are not altogether lost to us — that their 
words will often be quoted in this House — that their 
examples will often be referred to and appealed to, and 
that even their expressions will form part of our discus- 
sions and debates. There are now, I may say, some 
members of Parliament who, though they may not be 

6 



S2 Consolation of a Well-spent Life. 

present are still members of this House — who are inde- 
pendent of dissolutions, of the caprices of constituencies, 
and even of the course of time. I think that Mr. Cobden 
was one of those men." 

It is the great lesson of biography to teach what man 
can be and can do at his best. It may thus give each 
man renewed strength and confidence. The humblest, 
in sight of even the greatest, may admire, and hope, and 
take courage. These great brothers of ours in blood 
and lineage, who live a universal life, still speak to us 
from their graves, and beckon us on in the paths which 
they have trod. Their example is still with us, to guide, 
to influence and to direct us. For nobility of character 
is a perpetual bequest, living from age to age, and 
constantly tending to reproduce its like. 

" The sage," says the Chinese, " is the instructor of a 
hundred ages. When the manners of Loo are heard of, 
the stupid become intelligent, and the wavering deter- 
mined." Thus the acted life of a good man con- 
tinues to be a gospel of freedom and emancipation to 
all who succeed him: 

" To live in hearts we leave behind, 
Is not to die." 

The golden words which good men have uttered, 
the examples they have set, live through all time: 
they pass into the thoughts and hearts of their suc- 
cessors, help them on the road of life and often console 
them in the hour of death. " And the most miser- 
able or most painful of deaths," said Henry Marten, 



Consolation of a Well-spent Life* 



83 



the Commowealth man who died in prison, " is as 
nothing compared with the memory of a well- spent life; 
and great alone is he who has earned the glorious 
privilege of bequeathing such a lesson and example 
to his successors. " 





CHAPTER VIII. 

INFLUENCE OF CHARACTER. 



Character a Great Power in the World. — Common Duty. — Character above 
Learning and Wealth. — Character a Property. — Honesty of Character. — 
Principles. — Reliableness. — Practical Wisdom. — Sheridan and Burke. 



"Unless above himself, he can 
Erect himself, how poor a thing is man !" — Daniel. 

/\HARACTER is one of the greatest motive powers 
^ in the world. In its noblest embodiments it 
exemplifies human nature in its highest forms, for it 
exhibits man at his best. 

Men of genuine excellence, in every station of life 
— men of industry, of integrity, of high principle, of 
sterling honesty of purpose — command the spontaneous 
homage of mankind. It is natural to believe in such 
men, to have confidence in them, and to imitate them. 
All that is good in the world is upheld by them, and 
without their presence in it the world would not be 
worth living in. 

Although genius always commands admiration, char- 
acter most secures respect. The former is more the 
product of brain-power, the latter of heart power; and 
in the. long run it is the heart that rules in life. Men 
84 



Sphere of Common Duty. 85 

of genius stand to society in the relation of its intellect, 
as men of character of its conscience; and while the 
former are admired, the latter are followed, 

Great men are always exceptional men; and great 
ness itself is but comparative. Indeed, the range of 
most men in life is so limited, that very few have the 
opportunity of being great. But each man can act his 
part honestly and honorably, and to the best of his abil- 
ity. He can use his gifts, and not abuse them. He can 
strive to make the best of life. He can be true, just, 
honest and faithful, even in small things. In a word, 
he can do his duty in that sphere in which Providence 
has placed him. 

Commonplace though it may appear, this doing of 
one's duty embodies the highest ideal of life and char- 
acter. There may be nothing heroic about it; but the 
common lot of men is not heroic. And though the 
abiding sense of duty upholds man in his highest atti- 
tudes, it also equally sustains him in the transaction of 
the ordinary affairs of e very-day existence. Man's life 
is "centred in the sphere of common duties." The 
most influential of all the virtues are those which are 
the most in request for daily use. They wear the best, 
and last the longest. Superfine virtues, which are 
above the standard of common men, may only be 
sources of temptation and danger. Burke has truly 
said "that the human system which rests for its basis 
on the heroic virtues is sure to have a superstructure of 
weakness or of profligacy. 1 ' 



V 



86 Sustaining Poiver of Duty. 

When Dr. Abbot, afterwards Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, drew the character of his deceased friend Thomas 
Sackville, he did not dwell upon his merits as a states- 
man, or his genius as a poet, but upon his virtues as a 
man in relation to the ordinary duties of life. " How 
many rare things were in him!" said he. "Who more 
loving unto his wife ? — Who more kind unto his chil- 
dren? — Who more fast unto his friend? — Who more 
moderate unto his enemy? — Who more true to his 
word?" Indeed, we can always better understand and 
appreciate a man's real character by the manner in 
which he conducts himself towards those who are the 
most nearly related to him, and by his transaction of 
the seemingly commonplace details of daily duty, than 
by his public exhibition of himself as an author, an ora 
tor, or a statesman. 

At the same time, while duty, for the most part, 
applies to the conduct of affairs in common life by the 
average of common men, it is also a sustaining power 
to men of the very highest standard of character. They 
may not have either money, or property, or learning, or 
power; and yet they may be strong in heart and rich in 
spirit — honest, truthful, dutiful. And whoever strives 
to do his duty faithfully is fulfilling the purpose for 
which he was created, and building up in himself the 
principles of a manly character. There are many per- 
sons of whom it may be said that they have no other 
possession in the world but their character, and yet they 
stand as firmly upon it as any crowned king. 



Character above Learning. 87 

Intellectual culture has no necessary relation to purity 
or excellence of character. In the New Testament, 
appeals are constantly made to the heart of man and to 
" the spirit we are of," while allusions to the intellect 
are of very rare occurrence. " A handful of good life," 
says George Herbert, "is worth a bushel of learning." 
Not that learning .is to be despised, but that it must be 
allied to goodness. Intellectual capacity is sometimes 
found associated with the meanest moral character — 
with abject servility to those in high places, and arro- 
gance to those of low estate. A man may be accom- 
plished in art, literature, and science, and yet, in hon- 
esty, virtue, truthfulness, and the spirit of duty, be enti- 
tled to take rank after many a poor and illiterate peas- 
ant. 

"You insist," wrote Perthes to a friend, " on respect 
for learned men. I say, Amen! But at the same time, 
don't forget that largeness of mind, depth of thought, 
appreciation of the lofty, experience of the world, deli- 
cacy of manner, tact and energy in action, love of truth, 
honesty, and amiability — that all these may be wanting 
in a man who may yet be very learned." 

When some one, in Sir Walter Scott's hearing, made 
a remark as to the value of literary talents and accom- 
plishments, as if they were above all things to be es- 
teemed and honored, he observed, " God help us! what 
a poor world this would be if that were the true doc- 
trine! I have read books enough, and observed and 
conversed with enough of eminent and splendidly-cul- 



88 Character above Wealth. 

tured minds, too, in my time; but I assure you, I have 
heard higher sentiments from the lips of poor unedu- 
cated men and women, when exerting the spirit of se- 
vere yet gentle heroism under difficulties and afflictions, 
or speaking their simple thoughts as to circumstances 
in the lot of friends and neighbors, than I ever yet met 
with out of the Bible. We shall never learn to feel 
and respect our real calling and destiny, unless we have 
taught ourselves to consider every thing as moonshine^ 
compared with the education of the heart." 

Still less has wealth any necessary connection with 
elevation of character. On the contrary, it is much 
more frequently the cause of its corruption and degra- 
dation. Wealth and corruption, luxury and vice, have 
very close affinities to each other. Wealth in the hands 
of men of weak purpose, of deficient self-control, or of 
ill-regulated passions, is only a temptation and a snare 
— the source, it may be, of infinite mischief to them- 
selves, and often to others. 

On the contrary, a condition of comparative poverty 
is compatible with character in its highest form. A 
man may possess only his industry, his frugality, his 
integrity, and yet stand high in the rank of true man- 
hood. The advice which Burns's father gave him was 
the best: 

" He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing, 
For without an honest manly heart no man was worth regarding." 

One of the purest and noblest characters the writer 
ever knew was a laboring-man in a northern county, 



Character above Wealth. 89 

who brought up his family respectably on an income 
never amounting to more than ten shillings a week. 
Though possessed of only the rudiments of common 
education, obtained at an ordinary parish school, he was 
a man full of wisdom and thoughtfulness. His library 
consisted of the Bible, " Flavel," and " Boston " — books 
which, excepting the first, probably few readers have 
ever heard of. This good man might have sat for 
the portrait of Wordsworth's well-known " Wanderer." 
When he had lived his modest life of work and wor- 
ship, and finally went to his rest, he left behind him a 
reputation for practical wisdom, for genuine goodness, 
and for helpfulness in every good work, which greater 
and richer men might have envied. 

When Luther died, he left behind him, as set forth 
in his will, " no ready money, no treasure of coin of any 
description." He was so poor at one part of his life, 
that he was under the necessity of earning his bread by 
turning, gardening, and clock-making. Yet, at the very 
time when he was thus working with his hands, he was 
moulding the character of his country; and he was 
morally stronger, and vastly more honored and follow- 
ed, than all the princes of Germany. 

Character is property. It is the noblest of posses- 
sions. It is an estate in the general good-will and re- 
spect of men ; and they who invest in it — though they 
may not become rich in this world's goods — will find 
their reward in esteem and reputation fairly and honor- 
ably won. And it is right that in life good qualities 



90 Honesty of Character. 

should tell — that industry, virtue, and goodness should 
rank the highest — and that the really best men should 
be foremost. 

Simple honesty of purpose in a man goes a long way 
in life, if founded on a just estimate of himself and a 
steady obedience to the rule he knows and feels to be 
right. It holds a man straight, gives him strength and 
sustenance, and forms a mainspring of vigorous action. 
" No man," once said Sir Benjamin Rudyard, " is bound 
to be rich or great — no, nor to be wise; but every man 
is bound to be honest." 

But the purpose, besides being honest, must be in- 
spired by sound principles, and pursued with undevi- 
ating adherence to truth, integrity, and uprightness. 
Without principles, a man is like a ship without rudder 
or compass, left to drift hither and thither with every 
wind that blows. He is as one without law, or rule, or 
order, or government. " Moral principles," says Hume, 
" are social and universal. They form, in a manner, 
the party of humankind against vice and disorder, its 
common enemy." 

Talent is by no means rare in the world; nor is even 
genius. But can the talent be trusted? — can the 
genius ? Not unless based on truthfulness — on veracity, 
It is this quality more than any other that commands 
the esteem and respect and secures the confidence of 
others. Truthfulness is at the foundation of all per- 
sonal excellence. It exhibits itself in conduct. It is 
rectitude — truth in action, and shines through every 



Reliableness* 91 

word and deed. It means reliableness, and convinces 
other men that it can be trusted. And a man is al- 
ready of consequence in the world when it is known 
that he can be relied on — that when he says he knows 
a thing he does know it — that when he says he will 
do a thing, he can do, and does it. Thus reliableness 
becomes a passport to the general esteem and confi- 
dence of mankind. 

In the affairs of life or of business, it is not intellect 
that tells so much as character — not brains so much as 
heart — not genius so much as self-control, patience and 
discipline, regulated by judgment. Hence there is no 
better provision for the use of either private or public 
life, than a fair share of ordinary good sense guided by 
rectitude. Good sense, disciplined by experience and 
inspired by goodness, issues in practical wisdom. In- 
deed, goodness in a measure implies wisdom — the high 
est wisdom — the union of the worldly with the spiritual. 
" The correspondences of wisdom and goodness,^ says 
Sir Henry Taylor, " are manifold : and that they will 
accompany each other is to be inferred, not only 
because men's wisdom makes them good, but because 
their goodness makes them wise. 1 ' 

It is because of this controlling power of character 
in life that we often see men exercise an amount of influ- 
ence apparently out of all proportion to their intellectual 
endowments. They appear to act by means of some 
latent power, some reserved force, which acts secretly, 
by mere presence. As Burke said of a powerful noble- 



92 Influence of Character. 

man of the last century, " his virtues were his means." 
The secret is, that the aims of such men are felt to be 
pure and noble, and they act upon others with a con- 
straining power. 

Though the reputation of men of genuine character 
may be of slow growth, their true qualities can not be 
wholly concealed. They may be misrepresented by 
some, and misunderstood by others; misfortune and 
adversity may, for a time overtake them; but, with 
patience and endurance, they will eventually inspire the 
respect and command the confidence which they really 
deserve. 

It has been said of Sheridan that, had he possessed 
reliableness of character, he might have ruled the world; 
whereas, for want of it, his splendid gifts were compar- 
atively useless. He dazzled and amused, but was with- 
out weight or influence in life or politics. Even the 
poor pantomimist of Drury Lane felt himself his supe- 
rior. Thus, when Delpini one day pressed the manager 
for arrears of salary, Sheridan sharply reproved him, 
telling him he had forgotten his station. " No, indeed, 
Monsieur Sheridan, I have not," retorted Delpini; "I 
know the difference between us perfectly well. In. 
birth, parentage and education, you are superior to 
me; but in life, character and behavior, I am superior 
to you." 

Unlike Sheridan, Burke, his countryman, was a great 
man of character. He was thirty-five before he gained 
a seat in Parliament, yet he found time to carve his 



Influence of Character. 



93 



name deep in the political history of England. He was 
a man of great gifts, and of transcendent force of char- 
acter. Yet he had a weakness, which proved a serious 
defect — it was his want of temper; his genius was sacr 
rificed to his irritability. And without this apparently 
minor gift of temper, the most splendid endowments 
may be comparatively valueless to their possessor. 



&*^j>/ 




CHAPTER IX. 

CHARACTER AND CIRCUMSTANCES. 

Formation of Character. — The late Prince Consort.— Force of Character. — 
The Conscientious Man. — The Quality of Keverence. — Intrepidity of 
Character. — Lord Palmerston. — Contagiousness of Energy. — The Napiers 
and Sir John Moore. — "Washington. — Wellington. — Influence of Personal 
Character. 

" Character is moral order seen through the medium of an individual 
nature. . . . Men of character are the conscience of the society to 
which they belong." — Emerson. 

/\HARACTER is formed by a variety of minute 
circumstances, more or less under the regulation 
and control of the individual. Not a day passes without 
its discipline, whether for good or for evil. There is no 
act, however trivial, but has its train of consequences, 
as there is no hair so small but casts its shadow. It 
was a wise saying of Mrs. Schimmelpenninck's mother, 
never to give way to what is little; or by that little, 
however you may despise it, you will be practically 
governed. _ 

Every action, every thouaft, every feeling, contrib- 
utes to the education of the^emper, the habits, and 
understanding, and exercises^Bpnevitable influence upon 
all the acts of our future life.'^fThus character is under- 
94 



Character and Circumstances. 95 

going constant change, for better or for worse — either 
being elevated on the one hand or degraded on the 
other. " There is no fault nor folly of my life," says 
Mr. Ruskin, " that does not rise up against me, and 
take away my joy, and shorten my power of possession, 
of sight, of understanding. And every past effort of 
my life, every gleam of rightness or good in it, is with 
me now, to help me in my grasp of this art and its vision. 

The mechanical law, that action and reaction are 
equal, holds true also in morals. Good deeds act and 
react on the doers of them; and so do evil. Not only 
so: they produce like effects by the influence of exam- 
ple, on those who are the subjects of them. But man 
is not the creature, so much as he is the creator of 
circumstances; and by the exercise of his free-will, he 
can direct his actions so that they shall be productive 
of good rather than evil. " Nothing can work me 
damage but myself, 11 said St. Bernard, " the harm that 
I sustain I carry about with me ; and I am never a real 
sufferer but by my own fault." 

The best sort of character, however, can not be 
formed without effort. There needs the exercise of 
constant self- watchfulness, self-discipline, and self-control. 
There may be much faltering, stumbling and temporary 
defeat; difficulties and temptations manifold to be bat- 
tled with and overcome; but if the spirit be strong and 
the heart be upright, no one need despair of ultimate 
success. The very effort to advance — to arrive at a 
higher standard of character than we have reached — is 



i 



Formation of Character. 

inspiring and invigorating; and even though we may 
fall short of it. we can not fail to be improved by 
every honest effort made in an upward direction. 

And with the light of great examples to guide us — 
representatives of humanity in its best forms — every 
one is not only justified, but bound in duty, to aim at 
reaching the highest standard of character: not to 
become the richest in means, but in spirit; not the 
greatest in worldly position, but in true honor; not the 
most intellectual, but the most virtuous; not the most 
powerful and influential, but the most truthful, upright 
and honest. 

It was very characteristic of the late Prince Consort — 
a man himself of the purest mind, who powerfully im- 
pressed and influenced others by the sheer force of his 
own benevolent nature — when drawing up the condi- 
tions of the annual prize to be given by Her Majesty 
at Wellington College, to determine that it should be 
awarded, not to the cleverest boy, nor to the most 
bookish boy. nor to the most precise, diligent, and 
prudent boy, but to the noblest boy, to the bov who 
should show the most promise of becoming' a large- 
hearted, high-motived man. 

Character exhibits itself in conduct, guided and in- 
spired by principle, integrity, and practical wisdom. In 
its highest form, it is the individual will acting enero-et- 
ically under the influence of religion, moralitv. and rea- 
son. It chooses its way considerately, and pursues it 
steadfastly; esteeming duty above reputation, and the 



Force of Character. 97 

approval of conscience more than the world's praise. 
While respecting the personality of others, it 'preserves 
its own individuality and independence; and has the 
courage to be morally honest, though it may be unpop- 
ular, trusting tranquilly to time and experience for 
recognition. 

Although the force of example will always exercise 
great influence upon the formation of character, the 
self-originating and sustaining force of one's own spirit 
must be the main-stay. This alone can hold up the life, 
and give individual independence and energy. " Un- 
less man can erect himself above himself, 11 said Daniel, 
a poet of the Elizabethan era, " how poor a thing is 
man! 11 Without a certain degree of practical efficient 
force — compounded of will, which is the root, and wis- 
dom, which is the stem of character — life will be indefi- 
nite and purposeless — like a body of stagnant water, 
instead of a running stream doing useful work and keep- 
ing the machinery of a district in motion. 

When the elements of character are brought into 
action by determinate will, and, influenced by high pur- 
pose, man enters upon and courageously perseveres in 
the path of duty, at whatever cost of worldly interest, 
he may be said to approach the summit of his being. 
He then exhibits character in its most intrepid form, 
and embodies the highest idea of manliness. The acts 
of such a man become repeated in the life and action of 
others. His very words live and become actions. Thus 
every word of Luther's rang through Germany like a 
7 



<J8 The Inspiration of Energy. 

trumpet. As Richter said of him, " His words were 
half-battles." And thus Luther's life became transfused 
into the life of his country, and still lives in the charac- 
ter of modern Germany. 

On the other hand, energy, without integrity and a 
soul of goodness, may only represent the embodied 
principle of evil. It is observed by Novalis, in his 
" Thoughts on Morals," that the ideal of moral perfec- 
tion has no more dangerous rival to contend with than 
the ideal of the highest strength and the most energetic 
life, the maximum of the barbarian — which needs only 
a due admixture of pride, ambition, and selfishness, to 
be a perfect ideal of the devil. Among men of such 
stamp are found the greatest scourges and devastators 
of the world — those elect scoundrels whom Providence, 
in its inscrutable designs, permits to fulfill their mission r 
of destruction upon earth. 

Very different is the man of energetic character in- 
spired by a noble spirit, whose actions are governed by 
rectitude, and the law of whose life is duty. He is just 
and upright — in his business dealings, in his public ac- 
tion, and in his family life: justice being as essential in 
the government ot a home as of a nation. He will be 
honest in all things — in his words and in his work. He 
will be generous and merciful to his opponents, as well 
as to those who are weaker than himself. It was truly 
said of Sheridan — who, with all his improvidence, was 
generous, and never gave pain — that 

" His wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, 
Never carried a heart-stain away on its blade." 



The Conscientious Man. 99 

Such also was the character of Fox, who commanded 
the affection and service of others by his uniform heart- 
iness and sympathy. He was a man who could always 
be most easily touched on the side of his honor. Thus 
the story is told of a tradesman calling upon him one 
day for the payment of a promissory note which he 
presented. Fox was engaged at the time in counting 
out gold. The tradesman asked to be paid from the 
money before him. " No,' 1 said Fox, " I owe this money 
to Sheridan; it is a debt of honor; if any accident hap- 
pened to me he would have nothing to show." " Then," 
said the tradesman, " I change my debt into one of hon- 
or;" and he tore up the note. Fox was conquered by 
the act; he thanked the man for his confidence, and 
paid him, saying: "Then Sheridan must wait; yours is 
the debt of older standing." 

The man of character is conscientious. He puts his 
conscience into his work, into his words, into his every 
action. When Cromwell asked the Parliament for sol- 
diers in lieu of the decayed serving men and tapsters 
who filled the Commonwealth's army, he required that 
they should be men " who made some conscience of 
what they did;" and such were the men of which his 
celebrated regiment of " Ironsides " was composed. 

The man of character is also reverential. The pos- 
session of this quality marks the noblest and highest 
type of manhood and womanhood ; reverence for things 
consecrated by the homage of generations — for high 
objects, pure thoughts and noble aims — for the great 



100 The Quality of Reverence. 

men of former times, and the high-minded workers 
among our contemporaries. Reverence is alike indis- 
pensable to the happiness of individuals, of families, 
and of nations. Without it there can be no trust, no 
faith, no confidence, either in man or God — neither so- 
cial peace nor social progress. For reverence is but an- 
other word' for religion, which binds men to each other, 
and all to God. 

" The man of noble spirit," says Sir Thomas Over- 
bury, " converts all occurrences into experience, between 
which experience and his reason there is marriage, and 
the issue are his actions. He moves by affection, not 
for affection; he loves glory, scorns shame, and govern- 
eth and obeyeth with one countenance, for it comes 
from one consideration. Knowing reason to be no idle 
gift of nature, he is the steersman of his own destiny. 
Truth is his goddess, and he takes pains to get her, not 
to look like her. Unto the society of men he is a sun, 
whose clearness directs their steps in a regular motion. 
He is the wise man's friend, the example of the indiffer- 
ent, the medicine of the vicious. Thus time goeth not 
from him, but with him, and he feels age more by the 
strength of his soul than by the weakness of his body. 
Thus feels he no pain, but esteems all such things as 
friends, that desire to file off his fetters, and help him 
out of prison.' 1 

Energy of will — self-originating force— is the soul of 
every great character. Where it is, there is life; where 
it is not, there is faintness, helplessness, and despondency. 



The Quality of Reverence* 101 

" The strong man and the water-fall,' 1 says the prov- 
erb, " channel their own path. 1 ' The energetic leader 
of noble spirit not only wins a way for himself, but 
carries others with him. His every act has a personal 
significance, indicating vigor, independence, and self-reli- 
• ance, and unconsciously commands respect, admiration, 
and homage. Such intrepidity of character character- 
ized Luther, Cromwell, Washington, Pitt, Wellington, 
and all great leaders of men. 

" I am convinced ," said Mr. Gladstone, in describing 
the qualities of the late Lord Palmerston in the House 
of Commons, shortly after his death — " I am convinced 
that it was the force of will, a sense of duty, and a de- 
termination not to give in, that enabled him to make 
himself a model for all of us who yet remain and follow 
him, with feeble and unequal steps, in the discharge of 
our duties; it was that force of will that in point of 
fact did not so much struggle against the infirmities of 
old age, but actually repelled them and kept them at a 
distance. And one other quality there is, at least, that 
may be noticed without the smallest risk of stirring in 
any breast a painful emotion. It is this, that Lord 
Palmerston had a nature incapable of enduring anger 
or any sentiment of wrath. This freedom from wrath- 
ful sentiment was not the result of painful effort, but 
the spontaneous fruit of the mind. It was a noble gift 
of his original nature — a gift which beyond all others it 
was delightful to observe, delightful also to remember 
in connection with him who has left us, and with whom 



102 Contagiousness of Energy, 

we have no longer to do, except in endeavoring to profit 
b) T his example wherever it can lead us in the path of 
duty and of right, and of bestowing on him those trib- 
utes of admiration and affection which he deserves at 
our hands.' 1 

The great leader attracts to himself men of kindred 
character, drawing them towards him as the loadstone 
draws iron. Thus, Sir John Moore early distinguished 
the three brothers Napier from the crowd of officers by 
whom he was surrounded, and they, on their part, repaid 
him by their passionate admiration. They were capti. 
vated by his courtesy, his bravery, and his lofty disin- 
terestedness; and he became the model whom they re- 
solved to imitate, and, if possible, to emulate. "Moore's 
influence," says the biographer of Sir William Napier, 
" had a signal effect in forming and maturing their char- 
acters; and it is no small glory to have been the hero of 
those three men, while his early discovery of their men- 
tal and moral qualities is a proof of Moore's own pene- 
tration and judgment of character." 

There is a contagiousness in every example of ener- 
getic conduct. The brave man is an inspiration, to the 
weak, and compels them, as it were, to follow him. 
Thus Napier relates that at the combat of Vera, when 
the Spanish centre was broken and in flight, a young 
officer, named Havelock, sprang forward, and, waving 
his hat, called upon the Spaniards within sight to follow 
him. Putting spurs to his horse, he leaped the abattis 
which protected the French front, and went headlong 



Influence of Washington. 103 

against them. The Spaniards were electrified; in a 
moment they dashed after him, cheering for u El chico 
bianco!'''' (the fair boy), and with one shock 'they 
broke through the French and sent them flying down- 
hill. 

And so it is in ordinary life. The good and the 
great draw others after them; they lighten and lift up 
all who are within reach of their influence. They are 
as so many living centres of beneficent activity. Let a 
man of energetic and upright character be appointed to 
a position of trust and authority, and all who serve 
under him become, as it were, conscious of an increase 
of power. When Chatham was appointed minister, his 
personal influence was at once felt through all the rami- 
fications of office. Every sailor who served under Nel- 
son, and knew he was in command, shared the inspira- 
tion of the hero. 

When Washington consented to act as commander- 
in-chief, it was felt as if the strength of the American 
forces had been more than doubled. Many years later, 
in 1798, when Washington, grown old, had withdrawn 
from public life and was living in retirement at Mount 
Vernon, and when it seemed probable that France 
would declare war against the United States, President 
Adams wrote to him, saying, "We must have your 
name, if you will permit us to use it; there will be 
more efficacy in it than in many an army." Such was 
the esteem in which the great President's noble character 
and eminent abilities were held by his countrymen. 



104 Influence of Character, 

In some cases, personal character acts by a kind of 
talismanic influence, as if certain men were the organs 
of a sort of supernatural force. " If I but stamp on the 
ground in Italy," said Pompey, " an army will appear." 
At the voice of Peter the Hermit, as described by the 
historian, u Europe arose and precipitated itself upon 
Asia." It was said of the Caliph Omar that his walk- 
ing-stick struck more terror into those who saw it than 
another man's sword. The very names of some men 
are like the sound of a trumpet. When the Douglas 
lay mortally wounded on the field of Otterburn, he or- 
dered his name to be shouted still louder than, before, 
saying there was a tradition in his family that a dead 
Douglas should win a battle. His followers, inspired 
by the sound, gathered fresh courage, rallied, and con- 
quered; and thus, in the words of the Scottish poet: 

" The Douglas dead, his name hath won the field." 

There have been some men whose greatest conquests 
have been achieved after they themselves were dead. 
" Never,". says Michelet, " was Caesar more alive, more 
powerful, more terrible, than when his old and worn- 
out body, his withered corpse, lay pierced with blows; 
he appeared then purified, redeemed — that which he 
had been despite his many stains — the man of hu- 
manity." Never did the great character of William 
of Orange, surnamed the Silent, exercise greater power 
over his countrymen than after his assassination at 
Delft by the emissary of the Jesuits. On the very day 
of his murder the Estates of Holland resolved " to 



Influence of Character. 105 

maintain the good cause, with God's help, to the utter- 
most, without sparing gold or blood;' 1 and they kept 
their word. 

The same illustration applies to all history and mor- 
als. The career of a great man remains an enduring 
monument of human energy. The man dies and dis- 
appears; but his thoughts and acts survive, and leave 
an indelible stamp upon his race. And thus the spirit 
of his life is prolonged and perpetuated, moulding the 
thought and will, and thereby contributing to form the 
character of the future. It is the men that advance in 
the highest and best directions who are the true bea- 
cons of human progress. They are as lights set upon 
a hill, illumining the moral atmosphere around them; 
and the light of their spirit continues to shine upon all 
succeeding generations. 




CHAPTER X, 



REVERENCE FOR GREAT MEN. 

v 
Luther, Knox, Dante. — Character a Great Legacy. — Character of Nations. 
— Washington Irving and Sir Walter Scott. — Character and Freedom.— 
Nations Strengthened by Trials.— Noble and Ignoble Patriotism. — Decline 
and Fall of Nations. — Stability of Character of Nations. 



' ' The prosperity of a country depends, not on the abundance of its 
revenues, nor on the strength of its fortifications, nor on the beauty of its 
public buildings ; but it consists in the number of its cultivated citizens, in 
its men of education, enlightenment, and character ; here are to be found its 
true interest, its chief strength, its real power. — Martin Luther. 

TT is natural to admire and revere really great men. 

They hallow the nation to which they belong, and lift 

up not only all who live in their time, but those who 

live after them. Their great example becomes the 

common heritage of their race; and their great deeds 

and great thoughts are the most glorious of legacies to 

mankind. They connect the present with the past, and 

help on the increasing purpose of the future; holding 

aloft the standard of principle, maintaining the dignity 

of human character, and filling the mind with traditions 

and instincts of all that is most worthy and noble in life. 

Character embodied in thought and deed, is of the 

nature of immortality. The solitary thought of a great 

thinker will dwell in the minds of men for centuries, 

106 



Influence of Great Men. 107 

until at length it works itself into their daily life and 
practice. It lives on through the ages, speaking as a voice 
from the dead, and influencing minds living thousands 
of years apart. Thus, Moses and David and Solomon, 
Plato and Socrates and Xenophon, Seneca and Cicero 
and Epictetus, still speak to us as from their tombs. 
They still arrest the attention, and exercise an influence 
upon character, though their thoughts be conveyed in 
languages unspoken by them, and in their time unknown. 
Great workers and great thinkers are the true makers 
of history, which is but continuous humanity influenced 
b>y men of character — by great leaders, kings, priests, 
philosophers, statesmen, and patriots — the true aristoc- 
racy of man. Indeed, Mr. Carlyle has broadly stated 
that Universal History is, at bottom, but the history of 
Great Men. They certainly mark and designate the 
epochs of national life. Their influence is active, as 
well as reactive. Though their mind is, in a measure, 
the product of their age, the public mind is also, to a 
great extent, their creation. Their individual action 
identifies the cause — the institution. They think great 
thoughts; cast them abroad, and the thoughts make 
events. Thus the early Reformers initiated the Refor- 
mation, and with it the liberation of modern thought. 
Emerson has said that every institution is to be regard- 
ed as but the lengthened shadow of some great man: as 
Islamism of Mohammed, Puritanism of Calvin, Jesuit- 
ism of Loyola, Quakerism of Fox, Methodism of Wes- 
ley, Abolitionism of Clarkson. 



108 Dante's Influence on Italy. 

Great men stamp their mind upon their age and na- 
tion — as Luther did upon modern Germany, and Knox 
upon Scotland. And if there be one man more than 
another that stamped his mind on modern Italy, it was 
Dante. During the long centuries of Italian degrada- 
tion his burning words were as a watch-fire and a bea- 
con to all true men. He was the herald of his nation's 
liberty — braving persecution, exile, and death, for the 
love of it. He was always the most national of the 
Italian poets, the most loved, the most read. From the 
time of his death all educated Italians had his best pas- 
sages by heart; and the sentiments they enshrined in- 
spired their lives, and eventually influenced the history 
of their nation. "The Italians,'' wrote Byron in 1821, 
" talk Dante, write Dante, and think and dream Dante, 
at this moment to an excess which would be ridiculous 
but that he deserves their admiration. " 

A succession of variously gifted men in different ages 
— extending from Alfred to Albert — has in like manner 
contributed, by their life and example, to shape the mul- 
tiform character of England. Of these, probably the 
most influential were the men of the Elizabethan and 
Cromwellian, and the intermediate periods — among 
which we find the great names of Shakspeare, Raleigh T 
Burleigh, Sidney, Bacon, Milton, Herbert, Hampden, 
Pym, Eliot, Vane, Cromwell, and many more — some of 
them men of great force, and others of great dignity 
and purity of character. The lives of such men have 
become part of the public life of England, and their 



Character a Great Legacy. 109 

deeds and thoughts are regarded as among the most 
cherished bequeathments from the past. 

So Washington left behind him, as one of the great- 
est treasures of his country, the example of a stainless 
life — of a great, honest, pure, and noble character— a 
model for his nation to form themselves by in all time 
to come. And in the case of Washington, as in so 
many other great leaders of men, his greatness did not 
so much consist in his intellect, his skill, and his genius, 
as in his honor, his integrity, his truthfulness, his high 
and controlling sense of duty — in a word, in his genuine 
nobility of character, 

Men such as these are the true life-blood of the coun- 
try to which they belong. They elevate and uphold it, 
fortify and ennoble it, and shed a glory over it by the 
example of life and character which the) 7 have bequeath- 
ed. " The names and memories of great men," says an 
able writer, " are the dowry of a nation. Widowhood, 
overthrow, desertion, even slavery, can not take away 
from her this sacred inheritance. . . . Whenever na- 
tional life begins to quicken .... the dead heroes rise 
in the memories of men, and appear to the living to 
stand by in solemn spectatorship and approval. No 
country can be lost which feels herself overlooked by 
such glorious witnesses. They are the salt of the earth, 
in death as well as in life. What they did once, their 
descendants have still and always a right to do after 
them; and their example lives in their country, a con- 



110 Character of Nations. 

tinual stimulant and encouragement for him who has 
the soul to adopt it.' 1 

But it is not great men only that have to be taken 
into account in estimating the qualities of a nation, but 
the character that pervades the great body of the peo- 
ple. When Washington Irving visited Abbotsford, Sir 
Walter Scott introduced him to many of his friends and 
favorites, not only among the neighboring farmers, but 
the laboring peasantry. " I wish to show you," said 
Scott, " some of our really excellent plain Scotch peo- 
ple. The character of a nation is not to be learnt from 
its fine folks, its fine gentlemen and ladies; such you 
meet everywhere, and they are everywhere the same.' 1 
While statesmen, philosophers, and divines represent 
the thinking power of society, the men who found in- 
dustries and carve out new careers, as well as the com- 
mon body of working people, from whom the national 
strength and spirit are from time to time recruited, 
must necessarily furnish the vital force and constitute 
the real backbone of every nation. 

Nations have their character to maintain as well as 
individuals; and under constitutional governments — 
where all classes more or less participate in the exercise 
of political power — the national character will necessa- 
rily depend more upon the moral qualities of the many 
than of the few. And the same qualities which deter- 
mine the character of individuals also determine the 
character of nations. Unless they are high-minded, 
truthful, honest, virtuous, and courageous, they will be 



Character and Freedom. Ill 

held in light esteem by other nations, and be without 
weight in the world. To have character, they must 
needs also be reverential, disciplined, self-controlling, 
and devoted to duty. The nation that has no higher 
god than pleasure, or even dollars or calico, must needs 
be in a poor way. It were better to revert to Homer's 
gods than be devoted to these; for the heathen deities 
at least imaged human virtues, and were something to 
look up to. 

As for institutions, however good in themselves, they 
will avail but little in maintaining the standard of 
national character. It is the individual men, and the 
spirit which actuates them, that determine the moral 
standing and stability of nations. Government, in the 
long run, is usually no better than the people governed. 
Where the mass is sound in conscience, morals, and 
habit, the nation will be ruled honestly and nobly. But 
where they are corrupt, self-seeking and dishonest in 
heart, bound neither by truth nor by law, the rule of 
rogues and wire-pullers becomes inevitable. 

The only true barrier against the despotism of public 
opinion, whether it be of the many or of the few, is 
enlightened individual freedom and purity of personal 
character. Without these there can- be no vigorous 
manhood, no true liberty in a nation. Political rights, 
however broadly framed, will not elevate a people indi- 
vidually depraved. Indeed, the more complete a system 
of popular suffrage, and the more perfect its protection, 
the more completely will the real character of a people 



112 Nations Strengthened by Trials. 

be reflected, as by a mirror, in their laws and govern- 
ment. Political morality can never have any solid ex- 
istence on a basis of individual immorality. Even free- 
dom, exercised by a debased people, would come to be 
regarded as a nuisance, and liberty of the press but a 
vent for licentiousness and moral abomination. 

Nations, like individuals, derive support and strength 
from the feeling that they belong to an illustrious race, 
that they are the heirs of their greatness and ought to 
be the perpetuators of their glory. It is of momentous 
importance that a nation should have a great past to 
look back upon. It steadies the life of the present, ele- 
vates and upholds it, and lightens and lifts it up, by the 
memory of the great deeds, the noble sufferings, and the 
valorous achievements of the men of old. The life of 
nations, as of men, is a great treasury of experience, 
which, wisely used, issues in social progress and im- 
provement; or, misused, issues in dreams, delusions, and 
failure. Like men, nations are purified and strength- 
ened by trials. Some of the most glorious chapters in 
their history are those containing the record of the 
sufferings by means of which their character has been 
developed. Love of liberty and patriotic feeling may 
have done much, but trial and suffering nobly borne 
more than all. 

A great deal of what passes by the name of patriot- 
ism in these days consists of the merest bigotry and 
narrow-mindedness; exhibiting itself in national preju- 
dice, national conceit and national hatred. It does not 



Nolle and Ignoble Patriotism. 113 

show itself in deeds, but in boastings — in bowlings, ges- 
ticulations, and shrieking helplessly for help — in flying 
flags and singing songs — and in perpetual grinding at 
the hurdy-gurdy of long-dead grievances and long- 
remedied wrongs. To be infested by such a patriotism 
as this is perhaps among the greatest curses that can 
befall any country. 

But as there is an ignoble, so is there a noble pa- 
triotism — the patriotism that invigorates and elevates a 
country by noble work — that does its duty truthfully 
and manfully — that lives an honest, sober, and upright 
life, and strives to make the best use of the opportuni- 
ties for improvement that present themselves on every 
side; and at the same time a patriotism that cherishes 
the memory and example of the great men of old. who. 
by their sufferings in the cause of religion or of free- 
dom, have won for themselves a deathless glory, and 
for their nation those privileges of free life and free 
political institutions of which they are the inheritors and 
possessors. 

Nations are not to be judged by their size any more 
than individuals: 

i; It is not growing like a tree 
In bulk, doth make Man better be." 

For a nation to be great, it need not necessarily be big, 
though bigness is often confounded with greatness. A 
nation may be very big in point of territory and popu- 
lation, and yet be devoid of true greatness. The peo- 
ple of Israel were a small people, yet what a great life 
8 



114 Decline and Fall of Nations. 

they developed, and how powerful the influence they 
have exercised on the destinies of mankind! Greece 
was not big: the entire population of Attica was less 
than that of South Lancashire. Athens was less popu- 
lous than New York; and yet how great it was in arty 
in literature, in philosophy, and in patriotism! 

But it was the fatal weakness of Athens that its citi- 
zens had no true family or home life, while its freemen 
were greatly outnumbered by its slaves. Its public men 
were loose, if not corrupt, in morals. Its women, even 
the most accomplished, were unchaste. Hence its fall 
became inevitable, and was even more sudden than its 
rise. 

In like manner, the decline and fall of Rome was at- 
tributable to the general corruption of its people, and to 
their engrossing love of pleasure and idleness — work, in 
the latter days of Rome, being regarded only as fit for 
slaves. Its citizens ceased to pride themselves on the 
virtues of character of their great forefathers; and the 
empire fell because it did not deserve to live. And so* 
the nations that are idle and luxurious — that " will rath- 
er lose a pound of blood," as old Burton says, u in a sin- 
gle combat, than a drop of sweat in any honest labor" 
— must inevitably die out, and laborious, energetic 
nations take their place. 

When Louis XIV. asked Colbert how it was that,. 
ruling so great and populous a country as France, he 
had been unable to conquer so small a country as Hol- 
land, the minister replied: " Because, sire, the greatness 



Decline and Fall of Nations. 115 

of a country does not depend upon the extent of its ter- 
ritory, but on the character of its people. It is because 
of the industry, the frugality, and the energy of the 
Dutch that your Majesty has found them so difficult to 
overcome. " 

It is also related of Spinola and Richardet, the am- 
bassadors sent by the King of Spain to negotiate a 
treaty at the Hague in 1608, that one day they saw 
some eight or ten persons land from a little boat, and 
sitting down upon the grass, proceed to make a meal of 
bread-and-cheese and beer. " Who are those travelers?" 
asked the ambassadors of a peasant. u These are our 
worshipful masters, the deputies from the States," was 
his reply. Spinola at once whispered to his companion, 
"We must make peace: these are not men to be con- 
quered." 

In fine, stability of institutions must depend upon 
stability of character. Any number of depraved units 
can not form a great nation. The people may seem to 
he highly civilized, and yet be ready to fall to pieces at 
the first touch of adversity. Without integrity of indi- 
vidual character, they can have no real strength, cohe- 
sion, or soundness. They may be rich, polite, and artist- 
ic, and yet hovering on the brink of ruin. If living 
for themselves only, and with no end but pleasure — 
each little self his own little god — such a nation is 
doomed, and its decay is inevitable. 

Where national character ceases to be upheld, a na- 
tion may be regarded as next to lost. Where it ceases 



116 Stability of Character. 

to esteem and to practice the virtues of truthfulness, 
honesty, integrity, and justice, it does not deserve to 
live. And when the time arrives in any country when 
wealth has so corrupted, or pleasure so depraved, or 
faction so infatuated the people, that honor, order, obe- 
dience, virtue, and loyalty have seemingly become things 
of the past; then, amidst the darkness, when honest 
men — if, haply, there be such left — are groping about 
and feeling for each other's hands, their only remaining 
hope will be in the restoration and elevation of Individ- 
ual Character; for by that alone can a nation be saved; 
and if character be irrecoverably lost, then indeed there 
will be nothing left worth saving. 




CHAPTER XI. 

WORK. 

Work the Law of our Being. — The Ancient Romans. — Pliny on Rural Labor. 
—The Curse of Idleness.— Causes of Melancholy.— Excuses of Indolence. 
— Industry and Leisure. — Work a Universal Duty. — Lord Stanley on 
Work. — Life and Work. 

"Arise, therefore, and be doing, and the Lord will be with thee."— 1 
Chronicles, xxii. 16. 

WORK is one of the best educators of practical 
character. It evokes and disciplines obedience, 
self-control, attention, application, and perseverance; 
giving a man deftness and skill in his special calling, 
and aptitude and dexterity in dealing with the affairs of 
ordinary life. 

Work is the law of our being — the living principle 
that carries men and nations onward. The greater 
number of men have to work with their hands, as a 
matter of necessity, in order to live; but all must work 
in one way or another, if they would enjoy life as it 
ought to be enjoyed. 

Labor may be a burden and a chastisement, but it is 
also an honor and a glorv. Without it nothing: can be 
-accomplished. All that is great in man comes through 
work, and civilization is its product. Were labor abol- 

1 17 



118 Pliny on Rural Labor. 

ished, the race of Adam were at once stricken by moral 
death. 

It is idleness that is the curse of man — not labor. 
Idleness eats the heart out of men as of nations, and 
consumes them as rust does iron. When Alexander 
conquered the Persians, and had an opportunity of ob- 
serving their manners, he remarked that they did not 
seem conscious that there could be anything more 
servile than a life of pleasure, or more princely than a 
life of toil. 

When the Emperor Severus lay on his death-bed at 
York, whither he had been borne on a litter from the 
foot of the Grampians, his final watch-word to his sol- 
diers was, " Labor emus''' 1 (we must work;) and nothing 
but constant toil maintained the power and extended 
the authority of the Roman generals. 

In describing the earlier social condition of Italy, 
when the ordinary occupations of rural life were con- 
sidered compatible with the highest civic dignity, Pliny 
speaks of the triumphant generals and their men return- 
ing contentedly to the plough. In those days the lands 
were tilled by the hands even of generals, the soil ex- 
ulting beneath a ploughshare crowned with laurels, and 
guided by a husbandman graced with triumphs: " Iftso- 
rmn tunc manibus im-peratorum colebantur agri: ut 
fasest credere, gaudente terra vomere laureato et tri~ 
umphali ar afore?" It was only after slaves became 
extensively employed in all departments of industry that 
labor came to be regarded as dishonorable and servile. 



The Curse of Idleness. 119 

And so soon as indolence and luxury became the char- 
acteristics of the ruling classes of Rome, the down-fall 
of the empire, sooner or later, was inevitable. 

There is, perhaps, no tendency of our nature that has 
to be more carefully- guarded against than indolence. 
When Mr. Gurney asked an intelligent foreigner who 
had traveled over the greater part of the world, wheth- 
er he had observed any one quality which, more than 
another, could be regarded as a universal characteristic 
of our species, his answer was, in broken English, " Me 
tink dat all men love lazy" It is characteristic of the 
savage as of the despot. It is natural to men to en- 
deavor to enjoy the products of labor without its toils. 
Indeed, so universal is this desire that James Mill has 
argued that it was to prevent its indulgence at the ex- 
pense of society at large, that the expedient of govern- 
ment was originally intended. 

Indolence is equally degrading to individuals as to 
nations. Sloth never made its mark in the world, and 
never will. Sloth never climbed a hill, nor overcame a 
difficulty that it could avoid. Indolence always failed 
in life, and always will. It is in the nature of things 
that it should not succeed in anything. It is a burden, 
an incumbrance and a nuisance — always useless, com- 
plaining melancholy and miserable. 

Burton, in his quaint and curious book — the only one, 
Johnson says, that ever took him out of bed two hours 
sooner than he wished to rise — describes the causes of 
Melancholy as hinging mainly on Idleness. " Idleness," 



120 Causes of Melancholy. 

he says, " is the bane of body and mind; the nurse of 
naughtiness, the chief mother of all mischief, one of the 
seven deadly sins, the devil's cushion, his pillow and 
chief reposal. . . . An idle dog will be mangy; and 
how shall an idle person escape? Idleness of the mind 
is much worse than that of the body: wit, without em- 
ployment, is a disease — the rust of the soul, a plague r 
a hell itself. As in a standing pool, worms and filthy 
creepers increase, so do evil and corrupt thoughts in an 
idle person; the soul is contaminated. . . . Thus much 
I dare boldly say: he or she that is idle, be they of 
what condition they will, never so rich, so well allied, 
fortunate, happy — let them have all things in abundance 
and felicity that heart can wish and desire, all content- 
ment — so long as he, or she, or they, are idle, they 
shall never be pleased, never well in body or mind, but 
weary still, sickly still, vexed still, loathing still, weep- 
ing, sighing, grieving, suspecting, offended with the 
world, with every object, wishing themselves gone or 
dead, or else carried away with some foolish phantasie 
or other." 

Burton says a great deal more to the same effect ; the 
burden and lesson of his book being embodied in the 
pregnant sentence with which it winds up: " Only take 
this for a corollary and conclusion, as thou tenderest 
thine own welfare in this, and all other melancholy, thy 
good health of body and mind, observe this short pre- 
cept, Give not way to solitariness and idleness. Be not 
solitary — be not idle" 



Excuses of Indolence. 121 

The indolent, however, are not wholly indolent. 
Though the body may shirk labor, the brain is not idle. 
If it do not grow corn, it will grow thistles, which will 
be found springing up all along the idle man's course in 
life. The ghosts of indolence rise up in the dark, ever 
staring the recreant in the face, and tormenting him: 

" The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices, 
Make instruments to scourge us." 

True happiness is never found in torpor of the faculties^ 
but in their action and useful employment. It is indo- 
lence that exhausts, not action, in which there is life, 
health, and pleasure. The spirits may be exhausted and 
wearied by employment, but they are utterly wasted by 
idleness. m Hence a wise physician was accustomed to 
regard occupation as one of his most valuable remedial 
measures. "Nothing is so injurious," said Dr. Marshall 
Hall, " as unoccupied time."" An archbishop of May- 
ence used to say that "the human heart is like a mill- 
stone: if you put wheat under it, it grinds the wheat into 
flour: if you put no wheat, it grinds on, but then 'tis 
itself it wears away." 

Indolence is usually full of excuses ; and the sluggard, 
though unwilling to work, is often an active sophist. 
"There is a lion in the path;" or " The hill is hard to 
climb;" or " There is no use trying — I have tried, and 
failed, and cannot do it." To the sophistries of such 
an excuser, Sir Samuel Romilly once wrote to a young 
man: " My attack upon your indolence, loss of time, etc. 
Was most serious, and I really think that it can be to 



122 Industry and Leisure. 

nothing but your habitual want of exertion that can be 
ascribed your using such curious arguments as you do 
in your defense. Your theory is this : Every man does 
all the good that he can. If a particular individual does 
no good, it is a proof that he is incapable of doing it. 
That you don't write proves that you can't; and your 
want of imitation demonstrates your want of talents. 
What an admirable system ! — and what beneficial effects 
would it be attended with if it were but universally 
received!" 

It has been truly said that to desire to possess with- 
out being burdened with the trouble of acquiring is as 
much a sign of weakness, as to recognize that every 
thing worth having is only to be got by paying its price 
is the prime secret of practical strength. Even leisure can 
not be enjoyed unless it is won by effort. If it have not 
been earned by work, the price has not been paid for it. 

There must be work before and work behind, with 
leisure to fall back upon; but the leisure, without the 
work, can no more be enjoyed than a surfeit. Life 
must needs be disgusting alike to the idle rich man as 
to the idle poor man, who has no work to do, or, having 
work, will not do it. The words found tattooed on the 
right arm of a sentimental beggar of forty, undergo- 
ing his eighth imprisonment in the jail of Bourges in 
France, might be adopted as the motto of all idlers: 
" Le passe m^a trompe; le present me tourments ; Pave 
nir m ''epouvante" (The past has deceived me; the pres- 
ent torments me; the future terrifies me.) 



Work a Universal Duty. 123 

The duty of industry applies to all classes and condi- 
tions of society. All have their work to do in their re- 
spective conditions of life — the rich as well as the poor. 
The gentleman by birth and education, however richly 
he may be endowed with worldly possessions, can not 
but feel that he is in duty bound to contribute his quota 
of endeavor towards the general well-being in which he 
shares. He can not be satisfied with being fed, clad, 
and maintained by the labor of others, without making 
some suitable return to the society that upholds him. 
An honest, high-minded man would revolt at the idea of 
sitting down to and enjoying a feast, and then going 
away without paying his share of the reckoning. To be 
idle and useless is neither an honor nor a privilege; and 
though persons of small natures may be content merely 
to consume — fruges consumer e nati — men of average 
endowment, of manly aspirations, and of honest purpose, 
will feel such a condition to be incompatible with real 
honor and true dignity. 

" I don't believe, " said Lord Stanley (now Earl of 
Derby) at Glasgow, " that an unemployed man, however 
amiable and otherwise respectable, ever was, or ever can 
be, really happy. As work is our life, show me what 
you can do, and I will show you what you are. I have 
spoken of love of one's work as the best preventive of 
merely low and vicious tastes. I will go farther, and 
say that it is the best preservative against petty anxie- 
ties, and the annoyances that arise out of indulged self- 
love. Men have thought before now that they could 



124 Lord Stanley on Work. 

take refuge from trouble and vexation by sheltering 
themselves, as it were, in a world of their own. The 
experiment has often been tried, and always with one 
result. You can not escape from anxiety and labor — 
it is the destiny of humanity. . . . Those who shirk 
from facing trouble find that trouble comes to them. 
The indolent may contrive that he shall have less than 
his share of the world's work to do, but Nature, propor- 
tioning the instinct to the work, contrives that the little 
shall be much and hard to him. The man who has only 
himself to please finds, sooner or later, and probably 
sooner than later, that he has got a very hard master; 
and the excessive weakness which shrinks from respon- 
sibility has its own punishment too, for where great inter- 
ests are excluded little matters become great, and the 
same wear and tear of mind that might have been at 
least usefully and healthfully expended on the real busi- 
ness of life is often wasted in petty and imaginary vex- 
ations, such as breed and multiply in the unoccupied 
brain. 11 

Even on the lowest ground — that of personal enjoy- 
ment — constant useful occupation is necessar}'. He 
who labors not can not enjoy the reward of labor. 
" We sleep sound, " said Sir Walter Scott, " and our 
waking hours are happy, when they are employed ; and 
a little sense of toil is necessary to the enjoyment of lei- 
sure, even when earned by study and sanctioned by the 
discharge of duty. 11 

It is true, there are men who die of overwork; but 



Life and Work. 125 

many more die of selfishness, indulgence, and idleness. 
Where men break down by overwork, it is most com- 
monly from want of durjj ordering their lives, and neg- 
lect of the ordinary conditions of physical health. Lord 
Stanley was probably right when he said, in his address 
to the Glasgow students above mentioned, that he 
doubted whether u hard work, steadily and regularly 
carried on, ever yet hurt any body.' 1 

Then, again, length of years is no proper test of 
length of life. A man's life is to be measured by what 
he does in it, and what he feels in it. The more useful 
work the man does, and the more he thinks and feels, 
the more he really lives. The idle, useless man, no mat- 
ter to what extent his life may be prolonged, merely 
vegitates. 

The early teachers of Christianity ennobled the lot of 
toil by their example. "He that will not work," said 
St. Paul, "neither shall he eat;" and he glorified him- 
self in that he had labored with his hands, and had not 
been chargeable to any man. When St. Boniface land- 
ed in Britain, he came with a gospel in one hand and 
a carpenter's rule in the other; and from England he 
afterwards passed over into Germany, carrying thither 
the art of building. Luther also, in the midst of a mul- 
titude of other employments, worked diligently for a 
living, earning his bread by gardening, building, turn- 
ing, and even clock-making." 



CHAPTER XII. 



DIGNITY OF WORK 



Work and Happiness. — Scott and Southey. — Work an Educator of Char- 
acter. — Training to Business. — Business Qualities. — Wellington, Wollen- 
stein, Washington. 

"Work as if thou hadst to live for aye; 
Worship as if thou Avert to die to-day." — Tuscan Proverb. 

TT was characteristic of Napoleon, when visiting a 
work of mechanical excellence, to pay great respect 
to the inventor, and, on taking his leave, to salute him 
with a low bow. Once at St. Helena, when walking 
with Mrs. Balcombe, some servants came along carrying 
a load. The lady, in an angry tone, ordered them out of 
the way, on which Napoleon interposed, saying, " Re- 
spect the burden, madam." Even the drudgery of the 
humblest laborer contributes towards the general well- 
being of society ; and it was a wise saying of a Chinese 
emperor that " if there was a man who did not work, 
or a woman that was idle, somebody must suffer cold 
or hunger in the empire." 

The habit of constant useful occupation is as essen- 
tial for the happiness and well-being of woman as of 
man. Without it women are apt to sink into a state of 
126 



The Dignity of Work. 127 

listless ennui and uselessness, accompanied by sick-head- 
ache and attacks of " nerves. " Caroline Perthes care- 
fully warned her married daughter Louisa to beware of 
giving away to such listlessness. " I, myself, " she said, 
" when the children are gone out for a half-holiday, 
sometimes feel as stupid and dull as an owl by day- 
light; but one must not yield to this, which happens 
more or less to all young wives. The best relief is 
tvo?'k, engaged in with interest and diligence. Work, 
then, constantly and diligently, at something or other; 
for idleness is the devil's snare for small and great, as 
your grandfather says, and he says true." 

Constant useful occupation is thus wholesome, not 
only for the body, but for the mind. While the sloth- 
ful man drags himself indolently through life, and the 
better part of his nature sleeps a deep sleep, if not mor- 
ally and spiritually dead, the energetic man is a source 
of activity and enjoyment to all who come within reach 
of his influence. Even any ordinary drudgery is better 
than idleness. Fuller says of Sir Francis Drake, who 
was early sent to sea, and kept close to his work by his 
master, that such " pains and patience in his youth knit 
the joints of his soul, and made them more solid and 
compact." Schiller used to say that he considered it a 
great advantage to be employed in the discharge of 
some dairy mechanical duty — some regular routine of 
work, that rendered steady application necessary. 

Thousands can bear testimony to the truth of the 
saying of Greuze, the French ' painter, that work — em- 



128 Work and Happiness- 

ployment, useful occupation — is one of the great secrets 
of happiness. Casaubon was once induced by the 
entreaties of his friends to take a few days' entire rest, 
but he returned to his work with the remark, that it was 
easier to bear illness doing something than doing nothing. 
When Charles Lamb was released for life from his 
daily drudgery of desk-work at the India Office, he felt 
himself the happiest of men. " I would not go back to 
my prison,' 1 he said to a friend, "ten years longer for 
ten thousand pounds." He also wrote in the same ec- 
static mood to Bernard Barton: " I have scarce steadi- 
ness of head to compose a letter," he said; u I am free! 
free as air! I will live another fifty years. ... Would 
I could sell you some of my leisure! Positively the 
best thing a man can do is — Nothing ; and next to that, 
perhaps, Good Works." Two years — two long and 
tedious years — passed; and Charles Lamb's feelings had 
undergone an entire change. He now discovered that 
official, even humdrum work—" the appointed round, 
the daily task" — had been good for him, though he 
knew it not. Time had formerly been his friend; it 
had now become his enemy. To Bernard Barton he 
again wrote: "I assure you, no work is worse than 
overwork ; the mind preys on itself — the most unwhole- 
some of food. I have ceased to care for almost any 

thing Never did the waters of heaven pour 

down upon a forlorner head. What I can do, and over- 
do, is to walk. I am a sanguinary murderer of time. 
But the oracle is silent." 



Practical Importance of Industry. 129 

No man could be more sensible of the practical im- 
portance of industry than Sir Walter Scdtt, who was 
himself one ot the most laborious and indefatigable of 
men. Indeed, Lockhart says of him that, taking all 
ages and countries together, the rare example of inde- 
fatigable energy, in union with serene self-possession of 
mind and manner, such as Scott's, must be sought for 
in the roll of great sovereigns or great captains, rather 
than in that of literary genius. Scott himself was most 
anxious to impress upon the minds of his own children 
the importance of industry as a means of usefulness and 
happiness in the world. To his son Charles, when at 
school, he wrote: "I can not too much impress upon 
your mind that labor is the condition which God has 
imposed upon us in every station of life; there is nothing 
worth having that can be had without it, from the bread 
which the peasant wins with the sweat of his brow to 
the sports by which the rich man must get rid of his 
ennui. .... As for knowledge, it can no more be 
planted in the human mind without labor than a field 
of wheat can be produced without the previous use of 
the plough. There is, indeed, this great difference, that 
chance or circumstances may so cause it that another 
shall reap what the farmer sows ; but no man can be 
deprived, whether by accident or misfortune, of the 
fruits of his own studies; and the liberal and extended 
acquisitions of knowledge which he makes are all for his 
own use. Labor, therefore, my dear boy, and improve 
the time. In youth our steps are light, and our minds 
9 



130 Scott and Southey. 

are ductile, and knowledge is easily laid up; but if we 
neglect our spring, our summers will be useless and con- 
temptible, our harvest will be chaff, and the winter of 
our old age unrespected and desolate." 

Southey was as laborious a worker as Scott. Indeed, 
work might almost be said to form part of his religion. 
He was only nineteen when he wrote these words : 
"Nineteen years! certainly a fourth part of my life; 
perhaps how great a part! and yet I have been of no 
service to society. The clown who scares crows for 
twopence a day is a more useful man; he preserves the 
bread which I eat in idleness.' ' And yet Southey had 
not been idle as a boy — on the contrary, he had been a 
most diligent student. He had not only read largely 
in English literature, but was well acquainted, through 
translations, with Tasso, Ariosto, Homer, and Ovid. He 
felt, however, as if his life had been purposeless, and he 
determined to do something. He began, and from that 
time forward he pursued, an unremitting career of liter- 
ary labor down to the close of his life — " daily progress- 
ing in learning," to use his own words — " not so learned 
as he is poor, not so poor as proud, not so proud as 
happy." 

The maxims of men often reveal their character. 
That of Sir Walter Scott was, " Never to be doing 
nothing." Robertson the historian, as early as his fif- 
teenth year, adopted the maxim of " Vita sine Uteris 
mors est" (Life without learning is death). Voltaire's 
motto was, Toujour s au travail" (always at work.), 



Work an Educator of Character- 131 

The favorite maxim of Lacepede, the naturalist, was, 
" Vivre c^est veiller" (To live is to observe): it was also 
the maxim of Pliny. When Bossuet was at College, he 
was so distinguished by his ardor in study, that his fel- 
low-students, playing upon his name, designated him as 
Bos-suetus aratro (the ox used to the plough). The 
name of Vita-Its (life a struggle), which the Swedish 
poet Sjoberg assumed, as Frederik von Hardenberg 
assumed that of Nova-lis, described the aspirations and 
the labors of both these men of genius. 

We have spoken of work as a discipline: it is also 
an educator of character. Even work that produces no 
results, because it is work, is better than torpor — inas- 
much as it educates faculty, and is thus preparatory to 
successful work. The habit of working teaches method. 
It compels economy of time, and the disposition of it 
with judicious forethought. And when the art of pack- 
ing life with useful occupations is once acquired by 
practice, every minute will be turned to account; and 
leisure, when it comes, will be enjoyed with all the great- 
er zest. 

Coleridge has truly observed, that " if the idle are 
described as killing time, the methodical man may be 
justly said to call it into life and moral being, while he 
makes it the distinct object not only of the conscious- 
ness, but of the conscience. He organizes the hours 
and gives them a soul; and by that, the very essence 
of which is to fleet and to have been, he communicates 
an imperishable and spiritual nature. Of the good and 



132 Training to Business- 

faithful servant, whose energies thus directed are thus 
methodized, it is less truly affirmed that he lives in time 
than that time lives in him. His days and months 
and years, as the stops and punctual marks in the 
record of duties performed, will survive the wreck 
of worlds, and remain extant when time itself shall be 
no more.'" 

It is because application to business teaches method 
most effectually, that it is so useful as an educator of 
character. The highest working qualities are best train- 
ed by active and sympathetic contact with others in the 
affairs of daily life. It does not matter whether the 
business relate to the management of a household or of 
a nation. Indeed, as we have endeavored to show in a 
preceding chapter, the able housewife must necessarily 
be an efficient woman of business. She must regulate 
and control the details of her home, keep her expendi- 
ture within her means, arrange everything according to 
plan and system, and wisely manage and govern those 
subject to her rule. Efficient domestic management 
implies industry, application, method, moral discipline, 
forethought, prudence, practical ability, insight into char- 
acter, and power of organization — all of which are 
required in the efficient management of business of 
whatever sort. 

Business qualities have, indeed, a very large field of 
action. They mean aptitude for affairs, competency to 
deal successfully with the practical work of life — wheth- 
er the spur of action lie in domestic management, in the 






Business Qualities. 133 

conduct of a profession, in trade or commerce, in social 
organization, or in political government. And the train- 
ing which gives efficiency in dealing with these various 
affairs is of all others the most useful in practical life. 
Moreover, it is the best discipline of character; for it 
involves the exercise of diligence, attention, self-de- 
nial, judgment, tact, knowledge of and sympathy with 
others. 

Such a discipline is far more productive of happiness, 
as well as useful efficiency in life, than any amount of 
literary culture or meditative seclusion; for in the long 
run it will usually be found that practical ability carries 
it over intellect, and temper and habits over talent. It 
must, however, be added that this is a kind of culture 
that can only be acquired by diligent observation and 
carefully improved experience. " To be a good black- 
smith," said General Trochu, in a recent publication, 
" one must have forged all his life : to be a good admin- 
istrator, one should have passed his whole life in the 
study and practice of business.''' 

It was characteristic of Sir Walter Scott to entertain 
the highest respect for able men of business; and he 
professed that he did not consider any amount of 
literary distinction as entitled to be spoken of in the 
same breath with the mastery in the higher depart- 
ments of practical life — least of all with a first-rate 
captain. 

The great commander leaves nothing to chance, but 
provides for every contingency. He condescends to ap- 



1 34 Wellington — Wash ington. 

parently trivial details. Thus, when Wellington was at 
the head of his army in Spain, he directed the precise 
manner in which the soldiers were to cook their provis- 
ions. When in India, he specified the exact speed at 
which the bullocks were to be driven; every detail in 
equipment was carefully arranged beforehand. And 
thus not. only was efficiency secured, but the devotion 
of his men, and their boundless confidence in his com- 
mand. 

Like other great captains, Wellington had an almost 
boundless capacity for work. He drew up the heads of 
a Dublin Police Bill (being still the Secretary for Ire- 
land) when tossing off the mouth of the Mondego, with 
Junot and the French army waiting for him on the 
shore. So Csesar, another of the greatest commanders, 
is said to have written an essay on Latin Rhetoric while 
crossing the Alps at the head of his army. And Wal- 
lenstein, when at the head of 60,000 men, and in the 
midst of a campaign, with the enemy before him, dic- 
tated from headquarters the medical treatment of his 
poultry-yard. 

Washington, also, was an indefatigable man of busi- 
ness. From his boyhood he diligently trained himself 
in habits of application, of study, and of methodical 
work. His manuscript school-books, which are still 
preserved, show that, as early as the age of thirteen, he 
occupied himself voluntarily in copying out such things 
as forms of receipts, notes of hand, bills of exchange, 
bonds, indentures, leases, land-warrants, and other dry 



Washington. 



135 



documents, all written out with great care. And the 
habits which he thus early acquired were, in a great 
measure, the foundation of those admirable business 
qualities which he afterwards so successfully brought 
to bear in the affairs of government. 

The man or woman who achieves success in the 
management of any great affair of business is entitled 
to honor — it may be, to as much as the artist who 
paints a picture, or the author who writes a book, or 
the soldier who wins a battle. Their success may have 
been gained in the face of as great difficulties, and after 
as great struggles ; and where they have won their bat- 
tle, it is at least a peaceful one, and there is no blood 
on their hands. 




CHAPTER XIII. 

WORKING GENIUSES. 

Genius and Business. — Literature and Business. — The Great Men of Eliza- 
beth's Reign. — The Great Italians. — Modern Literary Workers. — Workers 
in Leisure Hours. — Business Value of Culture. 

" Blest work! if ever thou wert curse of God, 
What must His blessing be !'" — J. B. Selkirk. 

/T\ HE idea has been entertained by some that business 
habits are incompatible with genius. In the Life of 
Richard Lovell Edgeworth, it is observed of a Mr. 
Bicknell — a respectable but ordinary man, of whom lit- 
tle is known but that he married Sabrina Sidney, the 
eleve of Thomas Day, author of " Sandford and Mer- 
ton " — that " he had some of the too usual faults of a 
man of genius: he detested the drudgery of business. " 
But there can not be a greater mistake. The great- 
est geniuses have, without exception, been the greatest 
workers, even to the extent of drudgery. They have 
not only worked. harder than ordinary men; but brought 
to their work higher faculties and a more ardent spirit. 
Nothing great and durable was ever improvised. It is 
only by noble patience and noble labor that the master- 
pieces of genius have been achieved. 
136 



Great Toilers. 137 

Power belongs only to the workers; the idlers are 
always powerless. It is the laborious and painstaking 
men who are the rulers of the world. There has not 
been a statesman of eminence but was a man of indus- 
try. "It is by toil, 'J said even Louis XIV., "that 
kings govern. 1 ' When Clarendon described Hampden, 
he spoke of him as " of an industry and vigilance not 
to be tired out or wearied by the most laborious, and 
of parts not to be imposed on by the most subtile and 
sharp, and of a personal courage equal to his best 
parts." While in the midst of his laborious though 
self-imposed duties, Hampden, on one occasion, wrote 
to his mother: " My lyfe is nothing but toyle, and hath 
been for many yeares, nowe to the Commonwealth, nowe 

to the Kinge Not so much tyme left as to doe 

my dutye to my deare parents, nor to sende to them." 
Indeed, all the statesmen of the Commonwealth were 
great toilers; and Clarendon himself, whether in office 
or out of it, was a man of indefatigable application and 
industry. 

The same energetic vitality, as displayed in the power 
of working, has distinguished all the eminent men in our 
own as well as in past times. During the Anti-Corn- 
Law movement, Cobden, writing to a friend, described 
himself as "working like a horse, with not a moment 
to spare." Lord Brougham was a remarkable instance 
of the indefatigably active and laborious man; and it 
might be said of Lord Palmerston, that he worked 
harder for success in his extreme old age than he had 



138 Great Toilers. 

ever done in the prime of his manhood — preserving his 
working faculty, his good humor and bonhomie, unim- 
paired to the end. He himself was accustomed to say 
that being in office, and consequently full of work, was 
good for his health. It rescued him from ennui. Hel- 
vetius even held that it is man's sense of ennui that is 
the chief cause of his superiority over the brute — that it 
is the necessity which he feels for escaping from its intol- 
erable suffering that forces him to employ himself active- 
ly, and is hence the greatest stimulus to human progress. 

Indeed, this living principle of constant work, of 
abundant occupation, of practical contact with men in 
the affairs of life, has, in all times, been the best ripener 
of the energetic vitality of strong natures. Business 
habits, cultivated and disciplined, are found alike useful 
in every pursuit — whether in politics, literature, science, 
or art. Thus, a great deal of the best literary work has 
been done by men systematically trained in business 
pursuits. The same industry, application, economy of 
time and labor, which have rendered them useful in the 
one sphere of employment, have been found equally 
available in the other. 

Most of the early English writers were men of affairs, 
trained to business; for no literary class as yet existed, 
excepting it might be the priesthood. Chaucer, the 
father of English poetry, was first a soldier, and after- 
wards a comptroller of petty customs. The office was 
no sinecure either, for he had to write up all the records 
with his own hand; and when he had done his " reck- 



Literature and Business. 139 

onings" at the custom-house, he returned with delight 
to his favorite studies at home — poring over his books 
until his eyes were "dazed" and dull. 

The great writers in the reign of Elizabeth, during 
which there was such a development of robust life in 
England, were not literarv men according to the mod- 
ern acceptation of the word, but men of action trained 
in business. Spenser acted as secretary to the Lord 
Deputy of Ireland; Raleigh was, by turns, a courtier, 
soldier, sailor, and discoverer; Sydney was a politician, 
diplomatist, and soldier; Bacon was a laborious lawyer 
before he became lord keeper and lord chancellor; Sir 
Thomas Browne was a physician in country practice at 
Norwich; Hooker was the hard-working pastor of a 
country parish; Shakspeare was the manager of a the- 
atre, in which he was himself but an indifferent actor, 
and he seems to have been even more careful of his 
money investments than he was of his intellectual off- 
spring. Yet these, all men of active business habits, 
are among the greatest writers of any age ; the period 
of Elizabeth and James I. standing out in the history of 
England as the era of its greatest literary activity and 
splendor. 

In the reign of Charles I , Cowley held various offices 
of trust and confidence. He acted as private secretary 
to several of the royalist leaders, and was afterwards 
engaged as private secretary to the queen, in ciphering 
and deciphering the correspondence which passed be- 
tween her and Charles I. — the work occupying all his 



140 Literary Men and Business. 

days, and often his nights, during several years. And 
while Cowley was thus employed in the royal cause r 
Milton was employed by the Commonwealth, of which 
he was the Latin secretary, and afterwards secretary to 
the lord protector. Yet, in the earlier part of his life, 
Milton was occupied in the humble vocation of a teach- 
er. Dr. Johnson says, " that in his school, as in every 
thing else which he undertook, he labored with great 
diligence, there is no reason for doubting. 1 ' It was after 
the Restoration, when his official employment ceased, 
that Milton entered upon the principal literary work of 
his life; but before he undertook the writing of his 
great epic, he deemed it indispensable that to ^indus- 
trious and select reading" he should add " steady obser- 
vation," and " insight into all seemly and generous arts 
and affairs. 

Locke held office in different reigns: first under 
Charles II. as secretary to the board of trade, and after- 
wards under William III. as commissioner of appeals 
and of trade and plantations. Many literary men of 
eminence held office in Queen Anne's reign. Thus 
Addison was secretary of state; Steele, commissioner of 
stamps; Prior, under-secretary of state, and afterwards 
ambassador to France; Tickell, under-secretary of state, 
and secretary to the lords justices of Ireland; Congreve, 
secretary to Jamaica ; and Gay, secretary of legation at 
Hanover. 

Indeed, habits of business, instead of unfitting a cul- 
tivated mind for scientific or literary pursuits, are often 



Literary Men and Business. 141 

the best training for them. Voltaire insisted with truth 
that the real spirit of business and literature are the 
same; the perfection of each being the union of energy 
and thoughtfulness, of cultivated intelligence and prac- o 
tical wisdom, of the active and contemplative essence — 
a union commended by Lord Bacon as the concentrated 
excellence of man's nature. It has been said that even 
the man of genius can write nothing worth reading in 
relation to human affairs, unless he has been in some 
way or other connected with the serious every-day busi- 
ness of life. 

Hence it has happened that man}* of the best books 
extant have been written by men of business; with 
whom literature was a pastime rather than a profession. 
Gifford, the editor of the "Quarterly," who knew the 
drudgery of writing for a living, once observed that " a 
single hour of composition, won from the business of the 
day, is worth more than the whole day's toil of him who 
works at the trade of literature: in the one case the 
spirit comes joyfully to refresh itself, like a hart to the 
water-brooks; in the other, it pushes its miserable way, 
panting and jaded, with the dogs and hunger of neces- 
sity behind." 

The first great men of letters in Italy were not mere 
men of letters; they were men of business — merchants, 
statesmen, diplomatists, judges, and soldiers.- Villani, 
the author of the best history of Florence, was a mer- 
chant; Dante, Petrarch, and Boccacio were all engaged 
in more or less important embassies; and Dante, before 



142 The Great Italians. 

becoming a diplomatist, was for some time occupied 
as a chemist and druggist. Galileo, Galvani, and Farini 
were physicians: and Goldoni a lawyer. Ariosto's tal- 
ent for affairs was as great as his genius for poetry. At 
the death of his father, he was called upon to manage 
the family estate for the benefit of his younger broth- 
ers and sisters, which he did with ability and integrity. 
His genius for business having been recognized, he was 
employed by the Duke of Ferrara on important missions 
to Rome and elsewhere. Having afterwards been 
appointed governor of a turbulent mountain district, he 
succeeded, by firm and just government, in reducing it 
to a condition of comparative good order and security. 
Even the bandits of the country respected him. Being 
arrested one day in the mountains by a body of out- 
laws, he mentioned his name, when they at once offered 
to escort him in safety wherever he chose. 

It has been the same in other countries. Vattel, the 
author of the "Rights of Nations," was a practical 
diplomatist, and a first-rate man of business. Rabelais 
was a physician, and a successful practitioner; Schiller 
was a surgeon; Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Calderon, 
Camoens, Descartes, Maupertius, La Rochefoucauld, 
Lacepecle, Lamark, were soldiers in the early part of 
their respective lives. 

In our own country, many men now known by their 
writings earned their living by their trade. Lillo spent 
the greater part of his life as a working jeweler in the 
Poultry, occupying the intervals of his leisure in the 



Literature, and Business* H3 

production of dramatic works, some of them of acknowl- 
edged power and merit. Izaak Walton was a linen- 
draper in Fleet Street, reading much in his leisure hours, 
and storing his mind with facts for future use in his 
capacity of biographer. De Foe was by turns horse- 
factor, brick and tile maker, shop-keeper, author, and 
political agent. 

Samuel Richardson successfully combined literature 
with business — writing his novels in his back shop in 
Salisbury Court, Fleet Street, and selling them over the 
counter in his front shop. William Hutton, of Birming- 
ham, also successfully combined the occupations of book- 
selling and authorship. He says, in his Autobiography, 
that a man may live halt a century and not be acquaint- 
ed with his own character. He did not know that he 
was an antiquary until the world informed him of it, 
from having read his u History of Birmingham," and 
then, he said, he could see it himself. Benjamin Frank- 
lin was alike eminent as a printer and bookseller — an 
author, a philosopher, and a statesman. 

Coming clown to our own time, we find Ebenezer El- 
liott successfully carrying on the business of a bar-iron 
merchant in Sheffield, during which time he wrote and 
published the greater number of his poems; and his 
success in business was such as to enable him to retire 
into the country and build a house of his own, in which 
he spent the remainder of his days. Isaac Taylor, the 
author of the " Natural History of Enthusiasm," was an 
engraver of patterns for Manchester calico-printers ; and 



144 Modern Literary Workers. 

other members of this gifted family were followers of 
the same branch of art. 

The principal early works of John Stuart Mill were 
written in the intervals of official work, while he held 
the office of principal examiner in the East India House 
— in which Charles Lamb, Peacock, the author of 
*' Headlong Hall," and Edwin Norris, the philologist, 
were also clerks. Macaulay wrote his "Lays of Ancient 
Rome " in the war office, while holding the post of sec- 
retary of war. It is well known that the thoughtful 
writings of Mr. Helps are literally u Essays written in 
the Intervals of Business."" Many of our best living 
authors are men holding important public offices — such 
as Sir Henry Taylor, Sir John Kaye, Anthony Trol- 
lope, Tom Taylor, Matthew Arnold, and Samuel War- 
ren. 

Mr. Proctor the poet, better known as " Barry Corn- 
wall," was a barrister and commissioner in lunacy. 
Most probably he assumed the pseudonym for the same 
reason that Dr. Paris published his u Philosophy in 
Sport made Science in Earnest" anonymously — because 
he apprehended that, if known, it might compromise his 
professional position. For it is by no means an uncom- 
mon prejudice, still prevalent among City men, that a 
person who has written a book, and still more one who 
has written a poem, is good for nothing in the way of 
business. Yet Sharon Turner, though an excellent his- 
torian, was no worse a solicitor on that account; while 
the brothers Horace and James Smith, authors of " The 



Workers in Leisure Hours. 145 

Rejected Addresses," were, men of such eminence in 
their profession, that they were selected to fill the im- 
portant and lucrative post of solicitors to the Admiral- 
ty, and they filled it admirably. 

It was while the late Mr. Broclerip, the barrister, was 
acting as a London police magistrate, that he was 
attracted to the study of natural history, in which he 
occupied the greater part of his leisure. He wrote the 
principal articles on the subject for the " Penny Cyclo- 
paedia," besides several separate works of great merit, 
more particularly the " Zoological Recreations," and 
" Leaves from the Note-Book of a Naturalist." It is 
recorded of him that, though he devoted so much of his 
time to the production of his works, as well as to the 
Zoological Society and their admirable establishment in 
Regent's Park, of which he was one of the founders, his 
studies never interfered with the real business of his 
life, nor is it known that a single question was ever 
raised upon his conduct or his decisions. And while 
Mr. Broderip devoted himself to natural history, the 
late Lord Chief Baron Pollock devoted his leisure to 
natural science, recreating himself in the practice of 
photography and the study of mathematics, in both of 
which he was thoroughly proficient. 

Among literary bankers we find the names of Rog- 
ers, the poet; Roscoe, of Liverpool, the biographer of 
Lorenzo de Medici; Ricardo, the author of u Political 
Economy and Taxation;" Grote, the author of the 
u History of Greece;" Sir John Lubbock, the scientific 
10 



146 Business Value of Culture* 

antiquarian; and Samuel Bailey, of Sheffield, the au- 
thor of " Essays on the Formation and Publication of 
Opinions,' 1 besides various important works on ethics, 
political economy, and philosophy. 

Nor, on the other hand, have thoroughly-trained men 
of science and learning proved themselves inefficient as 
first-rate men of business. Culture of the best sort 
trains the habit of application and industry, disciplines 
the mind, supplies it with resources, and gives it free- 
dom and vigor of action — all of which are equally req- 
uisite in the successful conduct of business. Thus, in 
young men, education and scholarship usually indicate 
steadiness of character, for they imply continuous atten- 
tion, diligence, and the ability and energy necessar}' to 
master knowledge; and such persons will also usually 
be found possessed of more than average promptitude, 
address, resource, and dexterity. 




CHAPTER XIV. ] 

SPECULATIVE AND PRACTICAL ABILITY. 

Napoleon and Men of Science. — Hobbies. — Literary Statesmen. — Sir G. C. 
Lewis. — Consolations of Literature. — Work and Over-work. 

"Let every man be occupied, and occupied in the highest employment 
of which his nature is capable, and die in the consciousness that he has 
done his best." — Sydney Smith. 

"1 /TONTAIGNE has said of true philosophers that " if 
J ^ they were great in science, they were yet much 
greater in action; . . . and whenever they have been put 
upon the proof, they have been seen to fly to so high a 
pitch, as made it very well appear their souls were 
strangely elevated and enriched with the knowledge of 
things." 

At the same time, it must be acknowledged that too 
exclusive a devotion to imaginative and philosophical 
literature, especially if prolonged in life until the habits 
become formed, does to a great extent incapacitate a 
man for the business of practical life. Speculative abil- 
ity is one thing, and practical ability another; and the 
man who, in his study, or with his pen in hand, shows 
himself capable of forming large views of life and poli- 
cy, may, in the outer world, be found altogether unfitted 
for carrying them into practical effect. 

147 



148 Speculative and Practical Ability. 

Speculative ability depends on vigorous thinking — 
practical ability on vigorous acting; and the two quali- 
ties are usually found combined in very unequal propor- 
tions. The speculative man is prone to indecision; he 
sees all the sides of a question, and his action becomes 
suspended in nicely weighing the pros and cons, which 
are often found pretty nearly to balance each other; 
whereas the practical man overleaps logical prelimina- 
ries, arrives at certain definite convictions, and proceeds 
forthwith to carry his policy into action. 

Yet there have been many great men of science who 
have proved efficient men of business. We do not learn 
that Sir Isaac Newton made a worse Master of the Mint 
because he was the greatest of philosophers. Nor were 
there any complaints as to the efficiency of Sir John 
Hershel who held the same office. The brothers Hum- 
boldt were alike capable men in all that they undertook 
— whether it was literature, philosophy, mining-, philolo- 
g} T , diplomacy, or statesmanship. 

Niebuhr, the historian, was distinguished for his 
energy and success as a man of business. He proved so 
efficient as secretary and accountant to the African con- 
sulate, to which he had been appointed by the Danish 
Government, that he was afterwards selected as one of 
the commissioners to manage the national finances; and 
he quitted that office to undertake the joint directorship 
of a bank at Berlin. It was in the midst of his business 
occupations that he found time to study Roman history, 
to master the Arabic, Russian, and other Sclavonic 



Napoleon and Men of Science. 149 

languages, and to build up the great reputation as an 
author by which he is now chiefly remembered. 

Having regard to the views professed by the First 
Napoleon as to men of science, it was to have been ex- 
pected that he would endeavor to strengthen his admin- 
istration by calling them to his aid. Some of his ap- 
pointments proved failures, while others were complete- 
ly successful. Thus Laplace was made minister of the 
interior; but he had no sooner been appointed than it 
was seen that a mistake had been made. Napoleon 
afterwards said of him, that " Laplace looked at no ques- 
tion in its true point of view. He was always search- 
ing after subtleties; all his ideas were problems, and he 
carried the spirit of the infinitesimal calculus into the 
management of business." But Laplace's habits had 
been formed in the study, and he was too old to adapt 
them to the purposes of practical life. 

With Daru it was different. But Daru had the 
advantage of some practical training in business, having 
served as an intendant of the army in Switzerland 
under Massena, during which he also distinguished him- 
self as an author. When Napoleon proposed to ap- 
point him a councillor of state and intendant of the 
imperial household, Daru hesitated to accept the office. 
"I have passed the greater part of my life," he said, 
" among books, and have not had time to learn the func- 
tions of a courtier." " Of courtiers," replied Napoleon, 
" I have plenty about me; they will never fail. But I 
want a minister at once enlightened, firm, and vigilant; 



150 Employment of Leisure. 

and it is for these qualities that 1 have selected you." 
Daru complied with the emperor's wishes and eventu- 
ally became his prime minister, proving thoroughly 
efficient in that capacity, and remaining the same mod- 
est, honorable, and disinterested man that he had ever 
been through life. 

Men of trained working faculty so contract the habit 
of labor that idleness becomes intolerable to them; and 
when driven by circumstances from their own special 
line of occupation, they find refuge in other pursuits. 
The diligent man is quick to find employment for his 
leisure; and he is able to make leisure when the idle 
man finds none. " He hath no leisure," says George 
Herbert, " who useth it not." " The most active or busy 
man that hath been or can be," says Bacon, " hath, no 
question, many vacant times of leisure, while he expect- 
eth the tides and returns of business, except he be 
either tedious and of no dispatch, or lightly and unworthi- 
ly ambitious to meddle with things that may be better 
done by others." Thus many great things have been 
done during such " vacant times of leisure," by men to 
whom industry had become a second nature, and who 
found it easier to work than to be idle. 

Even hobbies are useful as educators of the working 
faculty. Hobbies evoke industry of a certain kind, and 
at least provide agreeable occupation. Not such hob- 
bies as that of Domitian, who occupied himself in catch- 
ing flies. The hobbies of the King of Macedon, who 
made lanterns, and of the King of France, who made 



Use of Hobbies. 151 

locks, were of a more respectable order. Even a rou- 
tine mechanical employment is felt to be a relief by 
minds acting under high pressure; it is an intermission 
of labor — a rest — a relaxation, the pleasure consisting in 
the work itself rather than in the result. 

But the best of hobbies are intellectual ones. Thus 
men of active mind retire from their daily business to 
find recreation in other pursuits — some in science, some 
in art, and the greater number in literature. Such rec- 
reations are among the best preservatives against self- 
ishness and vulgar worldliness. We believe it was 
Lord Brougham who said, " Blessed is the man that 
hath a hobby!" and, in the abundant versatility pf his 
nature, he himself had many, ranging from literature to 
optics, from history and biography to social science. 
Lord Brougham is even said to have written a novel; 
and the remarkable story of the " Man in the Bell," 
which appeared many years ago in " Blackwood," is 
reputed to have been from his pen. Intellectual hob- 
bies, however, must not be ridden too hard; else, instead 
of recreating, refreshing, and invigorating a man's 
nature, they may only have the effect of sending him 
back to his business exhausted, enervated, and depressed. 

Many laborious statesmen besides Lord Brougham 
have occupied their leisure, or consoled themselves in 
retirement from office, by the composition of works 
which have become part of the standard literature of 
the world. Thus "Caesar's Commentaries " still sur- 
vive as a classic; the perspicuous and forcible style in 



152 Literary Statesmen. 

which they are written placing him in the same rank 
with Xenophon, who also successfully combined the 
pursuit of letters with the business of active life. 

When the great Sully was disgraced as a minister, 
and driven into retirement, he occupied his leisure in 
writing out his "Memoirs," in anticipation of the judg- 
ment of posterity upon his career as a statesman. Be- 
sides these, he also composed part of a romance after 
the manner of the Scuderi school, the manuscript of 
which was found among his papers at his death. 

Turgot found, a solace for the loss of office, from 
which he had been driven by the intrigues of his ene- 
mies, in the study of physical science. He also revert- 
ed to his early taste for classical literature. During his 
long journeys, and at nights when tortured by the gout, 
he amused himself by making Latin verses ; though the 
only line of his that has been preserved was that 
intended to designate the portrait of Benjamin Franklin: 

Among more recent French statesmen — with whom, 
however, literature has been their profession as much as 
politics — may be mentioned De Tocqueville, Thiers, 
Guizot, and Lamartine ; while Napoleon III. challenged 
a place in the Academy by his " Life of Caesar." 

Literature has also been the chief solace of our great- 
est English statesmen. When Pitt retired from office, 
like his great contemporary, Fox, he reverted with 
delight to the study of the Greek and Roman classics. 
Indeed, Grenville considered Pitt the best Greek scholar 
he had ever known. Canning and Wellesley, when in 



Sir George C- Lewis- 153 

retirement, occupied themselves in translating the odes 
and satires of Horace. Canning's passion for literature 
entered into all his pursuits, and gave a color to his 
whole life. His biographer says of him, that alter a 
dinner at Pitt's while the rest of the company were dis- 
persed in conversation, he and Pitt would be observed 
poring over some old Grecian in a corner of the draw- 
ing-room. Fox also was a diligent student of the 
Greek authors, and, like Pitt, read Lycophron. He was 
also the author of a History of James II., though the 
book is only a fragment, and, it must be confessed, is 
rather a disappointing work. 

One of the most able and laborious of our recent 
statesmen — with whom literature was a hobby as well 
as a pursuit — was the late Sir George Cornewall Lewis. 
He was an excellent man of business — diligent, exact, 
and painstaking. He rilled by turns the offices of presi- 
dent of the poor-law board — the machinery of which he 
created — chancellor of the exchequer, home secretary, 
and secretary at war; and in each he achieved the repu- 
tation of a thoroughly successful administrator. In the 
intervals of his official labors he occupied himself with 
inquiries into a wide range of subjects — history, politics, 
philology, anthropology, and antiquarianism. His works 
on " The Astronomy of the Ancients, 1 ' and " Essays on 
the Formation of the Romanic Languages," might have 
been written by the profoundest of German savants. 
He took especial delight in pursuing the abstruser 
branches of learning, and found in them his chief 



154. Sir George C Lewis. 

pleasure and recreation. Lord Palmerston sometimes 
remonstrated with him, telling him he was " taking too 
much out of himself" by laying aside official papers 
after office-hours in order to study books; Palmerston 
himself declaring that he had no time to read books 
— that the reading of manuscript was- quite enough for 
him. 

Doubtless Sir George Lewis rode his hobby too hard, 
and, but for his devotion to study, his useful life would 
probably have been prolonged. Whether in or out of 
office, he read, wrote, and studied. He relinquished the 
editorship of the u Edinburgh Review 11 to become chan- 
cellor of the exchequer; and when no longer occupied 
in preparing budgets, he proceeded to copy out a mass 
of Greek manuscripts at the British Museum. He took 
particular delight in pursuing any difficult inquiry in 
classical antiquity. . One of the odd subjects with which 
he occupied himself was an examination into the truth 
of reported cases of longevity, which, according to his 
custom, he doubted or disbelieved. This subject was 
uppermost in his mind while pursuing his canvass of 
Herefordshire in 1852. On applying to a voter one day 
for his support, he was met by a decided refusal. " I 
am sorry, 11 was the candidate's reply, "that you can't 
give me your vote ; but perhaps you can tell me wheth- 
er any body in your parish has died at an extraordi- 
nary age!" 

The contemporaries of Sir George Lewis also furnish 
many striking instances of the consolations afforded by 



Consolations of Literature- 155 

.literature to statesmen wearied with the toils of public 
life. Though the door of office may be closed, that of 
literature stands always open, and men who are at dag- 
gers-drawn in politics, join hands over the poetry of 
Homer and Horace. The late Earl of Derby, on retiring 
from power, produced his noble version of " The Iliad," 
which will probably continue to be read when his speech- 
es have been forgotten. Mr. Gladstone similarly occu- 
pied his leisure in preparing for the press his " Studies 
on Homer," and in editing a translation, of " Farini's 
Roman State " while Mr. Disraeli signalized his retire- 
ment from office by the production of his u Lothair." 
Among statesmen who have figured as novelists, besides 
Mr. Disraeli, are Lord Russell, who has also contributed 
largely to history and biography: the Marquis of Nor- 
mandy, and the veteran novelist, Lord Lytton, with 
whom, indeed, politics may be said to have been his 
recreation, and literature the chief employment of his 
life. 

To conclude : a fair measure of work is good for mind 
as well as body. Man is an intelligence sustained and 
preserved by bodily organs, and their active exercise 
is necessary to the enjoyment of health. It is not work, 
but over- work, that is hurtful; and it is not hard work 
that is injurious so much as monotonous work, fagging 
work, hopeless work. All hopeful work is healthful; 
and to be usefully and hopefully employed is one of the 
great secrets of happiness. Brain-work, in moderation, 
is no more wearing than any other kind of work. Duly 



156 Work and Over-work. 

regulated, it is as promotive of health as bodily exer- 
cise; and, where due attention is paid to the physical 
system, it seems difficult to put more upon a man than 
he can bear. Merely to eat and drink and sleep one's 
way idly through life is vastly more injurious. The 
wear-and-tear of rust is even faster than the tear-and- 
wear of work. 

But over- work is always bad economy. It is, in fact, 
great waste, especialty if conjoined with worry. In- 
deed, worry kills far more than work does. It frets, it 
excites, it consumes the body — as sand and grit, which 
occasion excessive friction, wear out the wheels of a ma- 
chine. Over- work and worry have both to be guarded 
against. For over-brain- work is strain- work; and it is 
exhausting and destructive according as it is in excess 
of nature. And the brain-worker may exhaust and 
overbalance his mind by excess, just as the athlete may 
overstrain his muscles and break his back by attempting 
feats beyond the strength of his physical system. 




CHAPTER XV. 



COURAGE. 



Moral Courage. — Martyrs of Science. — Persecution of Great Discoverers. — 
Hostility to New Views. — Socrates, Bruno, Galileo. R. Bacon. Vesalius, 
and others. — Martyrs of Faith. — Annie Askew, Mary Dyer. — Fortitude 
of Luther.— Strafford and Elliot. 

" It is not but the tempest that doth show 

The seaman's cunning ; but the field that tries 
The captain's courage ; and we come to know 
Best what men are, in their worst jeopardies." — Daniel. 

/T\HE world owes much to its men and women of 
courage. We do not mean physical courage, in 
which man is at least equaled by the bull-dog; nor is 
the bull-dog considered the wisest of his species. 

The courage that displays itself in silent effort and 
endeavor — that dares to endure all and suffer all for 
truth and duty — is more truly heroic than the achieve- 
ments of physical valor, which are rewarded by honors 
and titles, or by laurels sometimes steeped in blood. 

It is moral courage that characterizes the highest 
order of manhood and womanhood — the courage to seek 
and to speak the truth; the courage to be just; the 
courage to be honest; the courage to resist temptation; 
the courage to do one's duty. If men and women do 

157 



158 Moral Courage. 

not possess this virtue, they have no security whatever 
for the preservation of any other. 

Every step of progress in the history of our race has 
been made in the face of opposition and difficulty, and 
been achieved and secured by men of intrepidity and 
valor— by leaders in the van of thought — by great dis- 
coverers, great patriots, and great workers in all walks 
of life. There is scarcely a great truth or doctrine but 
has had to fight its way to public recognition in the face 
of detraction, calumny, and persecution. " Everywhere," 
says Heine, " that a great soul gives utterance to its 
thoughts, there also is a Golgotha." 

" Many loved Truth and lavished life's best oil, 

Amid the dust of books to find her, 
Content at last, for guerdon of their toil, 

With the cast mantle she had left behind her. 
Many in sad faith sought for her, 
Many with crossed hands sighed for her, 
But these, our brothers, fought for her, 
At life's dear peril wrought for her, 
So loved her that they died for her, 
Tasting the ra^ured fleetness 
Of her divine completeness." 

Socrates was condemned to drink the hemlock at 
Athens in his seventy-second year, because his lofty 
teaching ran counter to the prejudices and party spirit 
of his age. He was charged by his accusers with cor- 
rupting the youth of Athens by inciting them to despise 
the tutelary deities of the state. He had the moral 
courage to brave not only the tyranny of the judges who 
condemned him, but of the mob who could not under- 
stand him. He died discoursing of the doctrine of the 



Martyrs of Science- 159 

immortality of the soul; his last words to his judges 
being, " It is now time that we depart — I to die, you to 
live; but which has the better destiny is unknown to 
all except to the God." 

How many great men and thinkers have been perse- 
cuted in the name of religion! Bruno was burnt alive 
at Rome, because of his exposure of the fashionable but 
false philosophy of his time. When the judges of the 
Inquisition condemned him to die, Bruno said, proudly, 
" You are more afraid to pronounce my sentence than I 
am to receive it." 

To him succeeded Galileo, whose character as a man 
of science is almost eclipsed by that of the martyr. 
Denounced by the priests from the pulpit, because of the 
views he taught as to the motion of the earth, he was 
summoned to Rome, in his seventieth year, to answer 
for his heterodoxy. And he was imprisoned in the In- 
quisition, if he was not actually put to the torture there. 
He was pursued by persecution even when dead, the 
pope refusing a tomb for his body. 

Roger Bacon, the Franciscan monk, was persecuted 
on account of his studies in natural philosophy, and 
he was charged with dealing in magic, because of his 
investigations in chemistry. His writings were con- 
demned, and he was thrown into prison, where he lay 
for ten years, during the lives Gf four successive popes. 
It is even averred that he died in prison. 

The Inquisition branded Vesalius as a heretic for 
revealing man to man, as it had before branded Bruno 



160 Persecution of Great Discoverers. 

and Galileo for revealing the heavens to man. Vesalius 
had the boldness to study the structure of the human 
body by actual dissection, a practice until then almost 
entirely forbidden. He laid the foundations of a sci- 
ence, but he paid for it with his life. Condemned by 
the Inquisition, his penalty was commuted, by the 
intercession of the Spanish king, into a pilgrimage to the 
Holy Land: and when on his way back, while still in the 
prime of life, he died miserably at Zante, of fever and 
want — a martyr to his love of science. 

While the followers of Copernicus were persecuted as 
infidels, Kepler was branded with the stigma of heresy, 
" because, " said he, "I take that side which seems to 
me to be consonant with the Word of God." Even the 
pure and simple-minded Newton, of whom Bishop 
Burnet said that he had the whitest soul he ever knew — 
who was a very infant in the purity of his mind — even 
Newton was accused of " dethroning the Deity" by his 
sublime discovery of the law of gravitation; and a 
similar charge was made against Franklin for explaining 
the nature of the thunderbolt. 

The philosophy of Descartes was denounced as lead- 
ing to irreligion; the doctrines of Locke were said to 
produce materialism; and in our own day, Dr Buck- 
land, Mr. Sedgewick, and other leading geologists, have 
been accused of overturning revelation with regard to 
the constitution and history of the earth. Indeed, there 
has scarcely been a discovery in astronomy, in natural 
history, or in physical science, that has not been 



Hostility to New Views. 161 

attacked by the bigoted and narrow-minded as leading 
to infidelity. 

Other great discoveries, though they may not have 
been charged with irreligion, have had not less obloquy 
of a professional and public nature to encounter. When 
Dr. Harvey published his theory of the circulation of 
the blood, his practice fell off, and the medical profes- 
sion stigmatized him as a fool. " The few good things 
I have been able to do," said John Hunter, u have been 
accomplished with the greatest difficulty, and encount- 
ered the greatest opposition." Sir Charles Bell, while 
employed in his important investigations as to the nerv- 
ous system, which issued in one of the greatest of phys- 
iological discoveries, wrote to a friend: " If I were not 
so poor, and had not so many vexations to encounter, 
how happy would I be! " But he himself observed that 
his practice sensibly fell off after the publication of each 
successive stage of his discovery. 

Thus nearly every enlargement of the domain of 
knowledge, which has made us better acquainted with 
the heavens, with the earth, and with ourselves, has 
been established by the energy, the devotion, the self- 
sacrifice, and the courage of the great spirits of past 
times, who, however much they have been opposed or 
reviled by their contemporaries, now rank among those 
whom the enlightened of the human race most delight 
to honor. 

Nor is the unjust intolerance displayed towards men 
of science in the past without its lesson for the present. 

1 1 



162 Martyrs of Faith. 

It teaches us to be forbearant towards those who differ 
from us, provided they observe patiently, think honest- 
ly, and utter their convictions freely and truthfully. It 
was a remark of Plato, that " the world is God's epistle 
to mankind ; " and to read and study that epistle, so as 
to elicit its true meaning, can have no other effect on a 
well-ordered mind than to lead to a deeper impression 
of His power, a clearer perception of His wisdom, and 
a more grateful sense of His goodness. 

While such has been the courage of the martyrs of 
science, not less glorious has been the courage of the 
martyrs of faith. The passive endurance of the man or 
woman, who, for conscience' sake, is found ready to suffer 
and to endure in solitude, without so much as the en- 
couragement of even a single sympathizing voice, is an 
exhibition of courage of a far higher kind than that 
displayed in the roar of battle, where even the weakest 
feels encouraged and inspired by the enthusiasm of sym- 
pathy and the power of numbers. Time would fail to 
tell of the deathless names of those who through faith 
in principles, and in the face of difficulty, danger, and 
suffering, " have wrought righteousness and waxed val- 
iant " in the moral warfare of the world, and been 
content to lay down their lives rather than prove false 
to their conscientious convictions of the truth. 

Men of this stamp, inspired by a high sense of duty, 
have in past times exhibited character in its most heroic 
aspects, and continue to present to us some of the noblest 
spectacles to be seen in history. Even women, full 



Martyrs of Faith. 163 

of tenderness and gentleness, not less than men, have in 
this cause been found capable of exhibiting the most 
unflinching courage. Such, for instance, as that of Anne 
Askew, who, when racked until her bones were dislo- 
cated, uttered no cry, moved no muscle, but looked her 
tormentors calmly in the face, and refused either to 
confess or to recant; or such as that of Latimer and 
Ridley, who, instead of bewailing their hard fate and 
beating their breasts, went as cheerfully to their death 
as a bridegroom to the altar — the one bidding the other 
to u be of good comfort,'" for that " we shall this day 
light such a candle in England, by God's grace, as shall 
never be put out;" as such, again, as that of Mary Dyer, 
the Quakeress, hanged by the Puritans of New England 
for preaching to the people, who ascended the scaffold 
with a willing step, and, after calmly addressing those 
who stood about, resigned herself into the hands of her 
persecutors, and died in peace and joy. 

Martin Luther was not called upon to lay down his 
life for his faith; but, from the day that he declared 
himself against the pope he daily ran the risk of losing 
it. At the beginning of his great struggle he stood 
almost entirely alone. The odds against him were tre- 
mendous. " On one side," said he himself, "are learn- 
ing, genius, numbers, grandeur, rank, power, sanctity, 
miracles: on the other Wycliff, Lorenzo Valla, Au- 
gustine, and Luther — a poor creature, a man of yes- 
terday, standing well-nigh alone with a few friends." 
Summoned by the emperor to appear at Worms, to 



164 Fortitude of Luther. 

answer the charge made against him of heresy, he deter- 
mined to answer in person. Those about him told him 
that he would lose his life if he went, and they urged 
him to fly. " No. 1 ' said he ; "I will repair thither, 
though I should find there thrice as many devils as 
there are tiles upon the house-tops!" Warned against 
the bitter enmity of a certain Duke George, he said, " I 
will go there, though for nine whole days running it 
rained Duke Georges!' 1 

Luther was as good as his word, and he set forth 
upon his perilous journey. When he came in sight of 
the old-bell towers of Worms, he stood up in his chariot 
and sang, " Einfeste Burgistunser Gott " — the " Mar- 
seillaise " of the Reformation — the words and music of 
which he is said to have improvised only two days 
before. Shortly before the meeting of the Diet, an old 
soldier, George Freundesberg. put his hand upon Lu- 
ther's shoulder, and said to him: "Good monk, good 
monk, take heed what thou doest: thou art going- into 
a harder fight than anv of us have ever vet been in. 11 
But Luther's only answer to the veteran was, that he 
had " determined to stand upon the Bible and his 
conscience."' 

Luther's courageous defense before the Diet is on 
record, and forms one of the most glorious pages in his- 
tory. When finally urged by the emperor to retract, he 
said, firmly: " Sire, unless I am convinced of my error 
by the testimony of Scripture, or by manifest evidence, 
I can not and will not retract, for w r e must never act 



Fortitude of Luther. 165 

contrary to our conscience. Such is my profession of 
faith, and you must expect none other from me. Hier 
stehe zch: Ich kann nicht anders: Gott helfe mir '/" 
(Here stand I: I can not do otherwise: God help me!) 
He had to do his duty — to obey the orders of a Power 
higher than that of kings ; and he did it at all hazards. 

Afterwards, when hard pressed by his enemies at 
Augsburg, Luther said that, " if he had five hundred 
heads, he would lose them all rather than recant his 
article concerning faith." Like all courageous men, his 
strength only seemed to grow in proportion to the diffi- 
culties he had to encounter and overcome. " There is 
no man in Germany," said Hutten, "who more utterly 
despises death than does Luther." And to his moral 
courage, perhaps more than to that of any other single 
man, do we owe the liberation of modern thought, and 
the vindication of the great rights of the human under- 
standing. 

The honorable and brave man does not fear death 
compared with ignominy. It is said of the royalist 
Earl of Strafford that, as he walked to the scaffold on 
Tower Hill, his step and manner were those of a gen- 
eral marching at the head of an army to secure victory, 
rather than of a condemned man to undergo sentence 
of death. So the Commonwealth's man, Sir John Eliot, 
went alike bravely to his death on the same spot, say- 
ing: " Ten thousand deaths rather than defile my con- 
science, the chastity and purity of which I value beyond 
all this world." Eliot's greatest tribulation was on 



166 



Sir John Eliot 



account of his wife, whom he had to leave behind. When 
he saw her looking down upon him from the Tower win- 
dow, he stood up in the cart, waved his hat, and cried : 
" To heaven, my love! — to heaven! — and leave you in 
the storm!" As he went on his way, one in the crowd 
called out, " That is the most glorious seat you ever sat 
on;" to which he replied, "It is so, indeed!" and re- 
joiced exceedingly. 




CHAPTER XVI. 

COMMON COURAGE. 

Success Won through Failure.— Tyranny of ;; Society. "—Moral Cowardice.— 
Pandering to Popularity. — Intellectual Intrepidity. — Energetic Courage. 

" If thou canst plan a noble deed, 
And never flag till it succeed. 
Though in the strife thy heart should bleed, 
Whatever obstacles control, 
Thine hour will come — go on, true soul ! 
Thou'lt win the prize, thou'lt reach the goal." 

— C. Mackey. 

vAjLTHOUGH success is the guerdon for which all 
^- men toil, they have nevertheless often to labor 
on perseveringly, without any glimmer of success in 
sight. They have to live, meanwhile, upon their cour- 
age — sowing their seed, it may be, in the dark, in the 
hope that it will yet take root and spring up in achieved 
result. The best of causes have had to fight their way 
to triumph through a long succession of failures, and 
many of the assailants have died in the breach before 
the fortress has been won. The heroism they have 
displayed is to be measured not so much by their im- 
mediate success, as by the opposition they have encoun- 
tered, and the courage with which they have maintain 
ed the struggle. 

167 



168 Common Courage. 

The patriot who fights an always-losing battle— the 
martyr who goes to death amidst the triumphant shouts 
of his enemies — the discoverer, like Columbus, whose 
heart remains undaunted through the bitter years of his 
" long wandering woe' 1 — are examples of the moral sub- 
lime which excite a profounder interest in the hearts of 
men than even the most complete and conspicuous suc- 
cess. By the side of such instances as these, how smalt 
by comparison seem the greatest deeds of valor, incit- 
ing men to rush upon death and die amidst the frenzied 
excitement of physical warfare! 

But the greater part of the courage that is needed in 
the world is not of a heroic kind. Courage may be dis- 
played in every-day life as well as in historic fields of 
action. There needs, for example, the common courage 
to be honest — the courage to resist temptation — the 
courage to speak the truth — the courage to be what we 
really are, and not to pretend to be what we are not — 
the courage to live honestly within our own means, and 
not dishonestly upon the means of others. 

A great deal of the unhappiness, and much of the 
vice, of the world is owing to weakness and indecision 
of purpose — in other words, to lack of courage. Men 
may know what is right, and yet fail to exercise the 
courage to do it; they may understand the duty they 
have to do, but will not summon up the requisite reso- 
lution to perform it. The weak and undisciplined man 
is at the mercy of every temptation; he can not say 
u No," but falls before it. And if his companionship be 



The Virtue of Self -Help. 169 

bad, he will be all the easier led away by bad example 
into wrong-doing. 

Nothing can be more certain than that the character 
can only be sustained and strengthened by its own ener- 
getic action. The will, which is the central force of 
character, must be trained to habits of decision — other- 
wise it will neither be able to resist evil nor to follow 
good. Decision gives the power of standing firmly, 
when to yield, however slightly, might be only the first 
step in a down-hill course to ruin. 

Calling upon others for help in forming a decision is 
worse than useless. A man must so train his habits as 
to rely upon his own powers, and depend upon his own 
courage in moments of emergency. Plutarch tells of a 
King of Macedon who, in the midst of an action, with- 
drew into the adjoining town under pretense of sacrifi 
cing to Hercules; while his opponent Emilius, at the 
same time that he implored the Divine aid, sought for 
victory, sword in hand, and won the battle. And so it 
ever is in the actions of daily life. 

Many are the valiant purposes formed, that end mere- 
ly in words; deeds intended, that are never done; de-' 
signs projected, that are never begun; and all for want 
of a little courageous decision. Better far the silent 
tongue but the eloquent deed. For in life and in busi- 
ness, dispatch is better than discourse; and the shortest 
answer of all is, Doing. " In matters of great concern, 
and which must be done," says Tillotson, " there is no 
surer argument of a weak mind than irresolution — to be 



170 Despotism of Fashion. 

undetermined when the case is so plain and the neces- 
sity so urgent. To be always intending to live a new 
life but never to find time to set about it — this is as if a 
man should put off eating and drinking and sleeping from 
one day to another, until he is starved and destroyed." 
There needs also the exercise of no small degree of 
moral courage to resist the corrupting influences of 
what is called "Society.'" Although u Mrs. Grundy" 
may be a very vulgar and commonplace personage, her 
influence is nevertheless prodigious. Most men, but 
especially women, are the moral slaves of the class or 
cast to which they belong. There is a sort of uncon- 
scious conspiracy existing among them against each 
other's individuality. Each circle and section, each rank 
and class, has its respective customs and observances, to 
which conformity is required at the risk of being 
tabooed. Some are immured within a bastile of fashion, 
others of custom, others of opinion; and few there are 
who have the courage to think outside their sect, to act 
outside their party, and to step out into the free air of 
individual thought and action. We dress, and eat, and 
follow fashion, though it may be at the risk of debt, 
ruin, and misery; living not so much according to our 
means as according to the superstitious observances of 
our class. Though we may speak contemptuously of 
the Indians who flatten their heads, and of the Chinese 
who cramp their toes, we have only to look at the 
deformities of fashion among ourselves, to see that the 
reign of " Mrs. Grundy 11 is universal. 



Pandering to Popularity. 171 

13ut moral cowardice is exhibited quite as mi dh in 
•public as in private life. Snobbism is not confined to 
the toadying of the rich, but is quite as often displayed 
in the toadying of the poor. Formerly, sycophancy 
showed itself in not daring to speak the truth to those 
in high places; but in these days it rather shows itself 
in not daring to speak the truth to those in low places. 
Now that " the masses " exercise political power, there 
is a growing tendency to fawn upon them, to flatter them, 
and to speak nothing but smooth words to them. They 
are credited with virtues which they themselves know 
they do not possess. The public enunciation of whole- 
some, because disagreeable, truths is avoided; and, to win 
their favor, sympathy is often pretended for views, the 
carrying out of which in practice is known to be hopeless. 

It is not the man of the noblest character — the high- 
est-cultured and best-conditioned man — whose favor is 
now sought, so much as that of the lowest man, the 
least-cultured and worst-conditioned man, because his 
vote is usually that of the majority. Even men of 
rank, wealth, and education are seen prostrating them- 
selves before the ignorant, whose votes are thus to be 
got. They are ready to be unprincipled and unjust 
rather than unpopular. It is so much easier for some 
men to stoop, to bow, and to flatter, than to be manly, 
resolute, and magnanimous; and to yield to prejudices, 
than run counter to them. It requires strength and 
courage to swim against the stream, while any dead fish 
can float with it. 



172 Pandering to Popularity. 

This servile pandering to popularity has been rapidly 
on the increase of late years, and its tendency has been 
to lower and degrade the character of public men. 
Consciences have become more elastic. There is now- 
one opinion for the chamber and another for the platform. 
Prejudices are pandered to in public which in private are 
despised. Pretended conversions — which invariably jump 
with party interests — are more sudden ; and even hypoc- 
risy now appears to be scarcely thought discreditable. 

The same moral cowardice extends downward as well 
as upward. The action and reaction are equal. Hy- 
pocrisy and time-serving above are acccompanied by 
hypocrisy and time-serving below. Where men of high 
standing have not the courage of their opinions, what 
is to be expected from men of low standing? They 
will only follow such examples as are set before them. 
They too will skulk, and dodge, and prevaricate — be 
ready to speak one way and act another — just like their 
betters. Give them but a sealed box, or some hole and 
corner to hide their act in, and they will then enjoy their 
"liberty!" 

Popularity, as won in these days, is by no means a 
presumption in a man's favor, but is quite as often a 
presumption against him. " No man," says the Russian 
proverb, " can rise to honor who is cursed with a stiff 
backbone." But the backbone of the popularity-hunter 
is of gristle; and he has no difficulty in stooping and 
bending himself in any direction to catch the breath of 
popular applause. 



Moral Cowardice. 173 

Where popularity is won by fawning upon the people, 
by withholding the truth from them, by writing and 
speaking down to the lowest tastes, and, still worse, by 
appeals to class-hatred, such a popularity must be simply 
contemptible in the sight of all honest men. Jeremy 
Bentham, speaking of a well-known public character, 
said: " His creed of politics results less from love of the 
many than from hatred of the few; it is too much under 
the influence of selfish and dissocial affection." To 
how many men in our own day might not the same 
description apply? 

Men of sterling character have the courage to speak 
the truth, even when \it is unpopular. It was said of 
Colonel Hutchinson by his wife, that he never sought 
after popular applause, or prided himself on it: "He 
more delighted to do well than to be praised, and never 
set vulgar commendations at such a rate as to act con- 
trary to his own conscience or reason for the obtaining 
them; nor would he forbear a good action which he 
was bound to, though all the world disliked it; for he 
ever looked on things as they were in themselves, not 
through the dim spectacles of vulgar estimation." 

" Popularity, in the lowest and most common sense," 
said Sir John Pakington, on a recent occasion, " is not 
worth the having. Do your duty to the best of your 
power, win the approbation of your own conscience, 
and popularity, in its best and highest sense, is sure to 
follow." 

Intellectual intrepidity is one of the vital conditions 



174 Intellectual Intrepidity. 

of independence and self-reliance of character. A man 
must have the courage to be himself, and not the shadow 
or the echo of another. He must exercise his own 
powers, think his own thoughts, and speak his own sen- 
timents. He must elaborate his own opinions, and form 
his own convictions. It has been said that he who dare 
not form an opinion must be a coward; he who will 
not, must be an idler; he who can not, must be a fool. 

But it is precisely in this element of intrepidity that 
so many persons of promise fall short, and disappoint 
the expectations of their friends. They march up to 
the scene of action, but at every step their courage 
oozes out. They want the requisite decision, courage, 
and preseverance. They calculate the risks and weigh 
the chances, until the opportunity for effective effort 
has passed, it may be, never to return. 

Men are bound to speak the truth in the love of it. 
" I had rather suffer," said John Pym, the Common- 
wealth man, " for speaking the truth, than that the truth 
should suffer for want of my speaking." When a man's 
convictions are honestly formed, after fair and full con- 
sideration, he is justified in striving by all fair means to 
bring them into action. There are certain states of 
society and conditions of affairs in which a man is bound 
to speak out and be antagonistic — when conformity is 
not only a weakness, but a sin. Great evils are in some 
cases only to be met by resistance; they can not be 
wept down, but must be battled down. 

The honest man is naturally antagonistic to fraud, the 



Energetic Courage. 175 

truthful man to lying, the justice-loving man to oppres- 
sion, the pure-minded man to vice and iniquity. They 
have to do battle with these conditions, and, if possible, 
overcome them. Such men have in all ages represented 
the moral force of the world. Inspired by benevolence 
and sustained by courage, they have been the main-stays 
of all social renovation and progress. But for their 
continuous antagonism to evil conditions, the world were 
for the most part given over to the dominion of selfish- 
ness and vice. All the great reformers and martyrs 
were antagonistic men — enemies to falsehood and evil- 
doing. The Apostles themselves were an organized 
band of social antagonists, who contended with pride, 
selfishness, superstition, and irreligion. And in our own 
time the lives of such men as Clarkson and Granville 
Sharpe, Father Mathew and Richard Cobclen, inspired 
by singleness of purpose, have shown what high-minded 
social antagonism can effect. 

It is the strong and courageous men who lead and 
guide and rule the world. The weak and timid leave 
no trace behind them; while the life of a single upright 
and energetic man is like a track of light. His example 
is remembered and appealed to; and his thoughts, his 
spirit, and his courage continue to be the inspiration of 
succeeding generations. 

It is energy — the central element of which is will — 
that produces the miracles of enthusiasm in all ages. 
Everywhere it is the mainspring of what is called force' 
of character, and the sustaining power of all great 



176 Energy and Perseverance. 

action. In a righteous cause the determined man 
stands upon his courage as upon a granite block; and, 
like David, he will go forth to meet Goliath, strong in 
heart though a host be encamped against him. 

Men often conquer difficulties because they feel they 
can. Their confidence in themselves aspires the confi- 
dence of others. When Caesar was at sea, and a storm 
began to rage, the captain of the ship which carried 
him became unmanned by fear. " What art thou afraid 
of?" cried the great captain; " tlry vessel carries Cae- 
sar !" The courage of the brave man is contagious, and 
carries others along with it. His stronger nature awes 
weaker natures into silence, or inspires them with his 
own will and purpose. 

The persistent man will not be baffled or repulsed by 
opposition. Diogenes, desirous of becoming the disciple 
of Antisthenes, went and offered himself to the cynic. 
He was refused. Diogenes still persisting, the cynic 
raised his knotty staff, and threatened to strike him if 
he did not depart. "Strike! 1 '' said Diogenes; "you 
will not find a stick hard enough to conquer my perse- 
verance. " Antisthenes, overcome, had not another word 
to say, but forthwith accepted him as his pupil. 

Energy of temperament, with a moderate degree of 
wisdom, will carry a man farther than any amount of 
intellect without it. Energy makes the man of practical 
ability. It gives him vis, force, momentum. It is the 
active motive power of character; and, if combined with 
sagacity and self-possession, will enable a man to em- 



Energy and Perseverance. Ill 

ploy his powers to the best advantage in all the affairs 
of life. 

Hence it is that, inspired by energy of purpose, men 
of comparatively mediocre powers have often been 
enabled to accomplish such extraordinary results. For 
the men who have most powerfully influenced the world 
have not been so much men of genius as men of strong 
convictions and enduring capacity for work, impelled by 
irresistible energy and invincible determination: such 
men, for example, as were Mohammed, Luther, Knox, 
Calvin, Loyola, and Wesley. 

Courage, combined with energy and perseverance, 
will overcome difficulties apparently insurmountable. 
It gives force and impulse to effort, and does not permit 
it to retreat. Tyndall said of Farady, that " in his 
warm moments he formed a resolution, and in his cool 
ones he made that resolution good. 1 ' Perseverance, 
working in the right direction, grows with time, and 
when steadily practiced, even by the most humble, will 
rarely fail of its reward. Trusting in the help of others 
is of comparatively little use. When one of Michael 
Angelo's principle patrons died, he said: "I begin to 
understand that the promises of the world are for the 
most part vain phantoms, and that to confide in one's 
self, and become something of worth and value, is the 
best and safest course." 



12 



CHAPTER XVII. 

COURAGE AND TENDERNESS. 

Generosity of the Brave.— The Douglass.— Laplace.— The Magnanimous 
Man.— Education of Women in Courage.— Moral Strength of Women.— 
Heroism of Women. 

•• The heroic example of other days is in great part the source of the 
courage in each generation, and men walk up composedly to the most 
perilous enterprises, beckoned onward by the shades of the brave that 
were." — Helps. 

/\OURAGE is by no means incompatible with ten- 
^ derness. On the contrary gentleness and tenderness 
have been found to characterize the men, not less than 
the women, who have done the most courageous deeds. 
Sir Charles Napier gave up sporting because he could 
not bear to hurt dumb creatures. The same gentleness 
and tenderness characterized his brother, Sir William, 
the historian of the Peninsular War. Such, also, was 
the character of Sir James Outram, pronounced by Sir 
Charles Napier to be u the Bayard of India, sans pear 
et sans reprocJie " — one of the bravest and yet gentlest 
of men; respectful and reverent to women, tender to 
children, helpful of the weak, stern to the corrupt, but 
kindly as summer to the honest and deserving. More- 
over, he was himself as honest as day, and as pure as 
178 



Courage and Self- Sacrifice* 179 

virtue. Of him it might be said with truth, what 
Fulke Greville said of Sidney: " He was a true model 
of worth — a man lit for conquest, reformation, planta- 
tion, or what action soever is the greatest and hardest 
among men; his chief ends withal being, above all 
things, the good of his fellows ; and the service of his 
sovereign and country. " 

It is the courageous man who can best afford to be 
generous; or, rather, it is his nature to be so. When 
Fairfax, at the battle of Naseby, seized the colors from 
an ensign whom he had struck down in the fight, he 
handed them to a common soldier to take care of. The 
soldier, unable to resist the temptation boasted to his 
comrades that he had himself seized the colors, and the 
boast was repeated to Fairfax. " Let him retain the 
honor, 1 ' said the commander; " I have enough besides." 

So when Douglas, at the battle of Bannockburn, saw 
Randolph, his rival, outnumbered and apparently over- 
powered by the enemy, he prepared to hasten to his as- 
sistance; but, seeing that Randolph was already driving 
them back, he cried out, " Hold and halt ! We are come 
too late to aid them; let us not lessen the victory they 
have won by affecting to claim a share in it." 

Quite as chivalrous, though in a very different field 
of action, was the conduct of Laplace to the young 
philosopher Biot, when the latter had read to the French 
Academy his paper, " Sur les Equations aux difference 
Melees" The assembled savants, at its close, felicitated 
the reader of the paper on his originality. Monge was 



180 Courage and Self-Sacrifice. 

delighted at his success. Laplace also praised him for 
the clearness of his demonstrations, and invited Biot 
to accompany him home. Arrived there, Laplace took 
from a closet in his study a paper yellow with age, and 
handed it to the young philosopher. To Biot's surprise, 
he found that it contained the solutions, all worked out, 
for which he had just gained so much applause. With 
rare magnanimity, Laplace withheld all knowledge of 
the circumstances from Biot until the latter had ini- 
tiated his reputation before the Academy; moreover, 
he enjoined him to silence; and the incident would 
have remained a secret had not Biot himself published 
it, some fifty years afterwards. 

An incident is related of a French artisan, exhibiting 
the same characteristic of self-sacrifice in another form. 
In front of a lofty house in course of erection at Paris 
was the usual scaffold, loaded with men and materials. 
The scaffold, being too weak, suddenly broke down, and 
the men upon it were precipitated to the ground — all 
except two, a young man and a middle aged one, who 
hung on to a narrow ledge, which trembled under their 
weight, and was evidently on the point of giving way. 
u Pierre," cried the elder of the two, u let go; I am the 
father of a family." " Cest juste!" said Pierre; and, 
instantly letting go his hold, he fell and was killed on 
the spot. The father of the family was saved. 

The brave man is magnanimous as well as gentle. 
He does not take even an enemy at a disadvantage, nor 
strike a man when he is down and unable to defend 



Magnanimity. 181 

himself. Even in the midst of deadly strife such in- 
stances of generosity have not been uncommon. Thus, 
at the battle of Dettingen, during the heat of the 
action, a squadron of French cavalry charged an English 
regiment; but when the young French officer, who led 
them, and was about to attack the English leader, 
observed that he had only one arm, with which he held 
his bridle, the Frenchman saluted him courteously with 
his sword and passed on. 

It is related of Charles V. that, after the siege and 
capture of Wittenburg by the Imperialist army, the 
monarch went to see the tomb of Luther. While read- 
ing the inscription on it, one of the servile courtiers 
who accompanied him proposed to open the grave and 
give the ashes of the i( heretic" to the winds. The 
monarch's cheek flushed with honest indignation: "I 
war not with the dead," said he; u let this place be 
respected. 11 

The portrait which the great heathen, Aristotle, drew 
of the Magnanimous Man, in other words, the True Gen- 
tleman, more than two thousand years ago, is as faithful 
now as it was then. " The magnanimous man," he said, 
" will behave with moderation both with good fortune 
and bad. He will know how to be exalted and how to 
be abased. He will neither be delighted with success 
nor grieved bv failure. He will neither shun danger 
nor seek it, for there are few things which he cares for. 
He is reticent, and somewhat slow of speech, but speaks 
his mind openly and boldly when occasion calls for it. 



182 Fear to be Avoided. 

He is apt to admire, for nothing is great to him. He 
overlooks injuries. He is not given to talk about him- 
self or about others; for he does not care that he him- 
self should be praised, or that other people should be 
blamed. He does not cry out about trifles, and craves 
help from none." 

On the other hand, mean men admire meanly. They 
have neither modesty, generosity, nor magnanimity. 
They are ready to take advantage of the weakness or 
defencelessness of others, especially where they have 
themselves succeeded, by unscrupulous methods, in 
climbing to positions of authority. Snobs in high 
places are always much less tolerable than snobs of low 
degree, because they have more frequent opportunities 
of making their want of manliness felt. They assume 
greater airs, and are pretentious in all that they do; 
and the higher their elevation, the more conspicuous is 
the incongruity of their position. " The higher the 
monkey climbs," says the proverb, " the more he shows 
his tail" 

Much depends on the way in which a thing is done. 
An act which might be taken as a kindness if done in 
a generous spirit, when done in a grudging spirit may 
be felt as stingy, if not harsh and even cruel. When 
Ben Johnson lay sick and in poverty, the king sent him 
a paltry message, accompanied by a gratuity. The 
sturdy, plain-spoken poet's reply was: "I suppose he 
sends me this because I live in an alley; tell him his 
soul lives in an alley.' 1 






Fear to be Avoided. 183 

From what we have said, it will be obvious that to be 
of an enduring and courageous spirit is of great impor- 
tance in the formation of character. It is a source not 
only of usefulness in life, but of happiness. On the 
other hand, to be of a timid and, still more, of a cow- 
ardly nature, is one of the greatest misfortunes. A wise 
man was accustomed to say that one of the principal 
objects he aimed at in the education of his sons and 
daughters was to train them in the habit of fearing 
nothing" so much as fear. And the habit of avoiding 
fear is, doubtless, capaple of being trained like any 
other habit, such as the habit of attention, of diligence, 
of study, or of cheerfulness. 

Much of the fear that exists is the offspring of imag- 
ination, which creates the images of evils which may 
happen, but perhaps rarely do, and thus many persons 
who are capable of summoning up courage enough to 
grapple with and overcome real dangers, are paralyzed 
or thrown into consternation by those wru'ch are imag- 
inary. Hence, unless the imagination be held under 
strict discipline, we are prone to meet evils more than 
half-way — to suffer them by forestallment, and to assume 
the burdens which we ourselves create. 

Education in courage is not usually included among 
the branches of female training, and yet it is really of 
much greater importance than either music, French, or 
the use of the globes. Contrary to the view of Sir 
Richard Steele, that woman should be characterized by 
a "tender fear," and "an inferiority which makes her 



184 Courage of Women. 

lovely," we would have women educated in resolu- 
tion and courage, as a means of rendering them more 
helpful, more self-reliant, and vastly more useful and 
happy. 

There is, indeed, nothing attractive in timidity, noth- 
ing lovable in fear. All weakness, whether of mind or 
body, is equivalent to deformity, and the reverse of 
interesting. Courage is graceful and dignified; while 
fear, in any form, is mean and repulsive. Yet the ut- 
most tenderness and gentleness are consistent with cour- 
age.^ Ary SchefTer, the artist, once wrote to his daugh- 
ter: " Dear daughter, strive to be of good courage, to be 
gentle-hearted; these are the true qualities for woman. 
4 Troubles ' every body must expect. There is but one 
way of looking at fate — whatever that be, whether 
blessings or afflictions — to behave with dignity under 
both. We must not lose heart, or it will be the worse 
both for ourselves and for those whom we love. To 
struggle, and again and again to renew the conflict — 
this is life's inheritance." 

In sickness and sorrow none are braver and less com- 
plaining sufferers than women. Their courage, where 
their hearts are concerned, is indeed proverbial. 

Experience has proved that women can be as enduring 
as men under the heaviest trials and calamities; but 
too little pains are taken to teach them to endure petty 
terrors and frivolous vexations with fortitude. Such 
little miseries, if petted and indulged, quickly run into 
sickly sensibility, and become the bane of their life, 



Moral Strength of Women. 185 

keeping themselves and those about them in a state of 
chronic discomfort. 

The best corrective of this condition of mind is whole- 
some moral and mental discipline. Mental strength is 
as necessary for the developement of woman's character 
as of man's. It gives her capacity to deal with the 
affairs of life, and presence of mind, which enable her to 
act with vigor and effect in moments of emergency. 
Character in a woman, as in a man, will always be 
found the best safeguard of virtue, the best nurse of 
religion, the best corrective of Time. Personal beauty 
soon passes; but beauty of mind and character increase 
in attractiveness the older it grows. 

Ben Jonson gives a striking portraiture of a noble 
woman in these lines: 

i; I meant she should be courteous, facile, sweet, 

Free from that solemn vice of greatness, pride; 
I meant each softed virtue there should meet, 

Fit in that softer bosom to abide. 
Only a learned and manly soul 

I purposed her, that should with even powers 
The rock, the spindle and the shears control 

Of destiny, and spin her own free hours." 

The courage of woman is not the less true because it 
is for the most part passive. It is not encouraged by 
the cheers of the world, for it is mostly exhibited in the 
quiet recesses of private life. Yet there are cases of 
heroic patience and endurance on the part of women 
which occasionally come to the light of day. One of 
the most celebrated instances in history is that of Ger- 
trude Von der Wart. Her husband falsely accused of 



186 Heroism of Women. 

being an accomplice in the murder of the Emperor 
Albert, was condemned to the most frightful of all pun- 
ishments — to be broken alive in the wheel. With the 
most profound conviction of her husband's innocence, 
the faithful woman stood by his side to the last, watch- 
ing over him during two days and nights, braving the 
empress's anger and the inclemency of the weather, in 
the hope of contributing to soothe his dying agonies. 

But women have not only distinguished themselves 
for their passive courage; impelled by affection, or the 
sense of duty, they have occasionally become heroic. 
When the band of conspirators who sought the life of 
James II. of Scotland burst into his lodgings at Perth, 
the king called to the ladies, who were in the chamber 
outside his room, to keep the door as well as they could, 
and give him time to escape. The conspirators had 
previously destroyed the locks of the doors, so that the 
keys could not be turned; and when they reached the 
ladies' apartment, it was found that the bar had also been 
removed. But, on hearing them approach, the brave 
Catharine Douglas, with the hereditary courage of her 
family, boldly thrust her arm across the door instead of 
the bar, and held it there until, her arm being broken, 
the conspirators burst into the room with drawn swords 
and daggers, overthrowing the ladies, who, though, 
unarmed, still endeavored to resist them. 

The defense of Lathom House by Charlotte de Tre- 
mouille, the worthy descendant of William of Nassau 
and Admiral Coligny, was another striking instance of 



Lady Franklin. 187 

heroic bravery on the part of a noble woman. When 
summoned by the Parliamentary forces to surrender, 
she declared that she had been intrusted by her hus- 
band with the defense of the house, and that she could 
not give it up without her dear lord's orders, but trust- 
ed in God for protection and deliverance. In her ar- 
rangements for the defense, she is described as having 
" left nothing with her eye to be excused afterwards by 
fortune or negligence, and added to her former patience 
a most resolved fortitude. " The brave lady held her 
house and home good against the enemy for a whole 
year — during three months of which the place was 
strictly besieged and bombarded — until at length the 
siege was raised, after a most gallant defense, by the 
advance of the Royalist army. 

Nor can we forget the courage of Lady Franklin, who 
persevered to the last, when the hopes of all others had 
died out, in prosecuting the search after the Franklin 
Expedition. On the occasion of the Royal Geograph- 
ical Society determining to award the " Founder's Med- 
al " to Lady Franklin, Sir Roderick Murchison observed 
that, in the course of a long friendship with her, he had 
abundant opportunities of observing and testing the ster- 
ling qualities of a woman who had proved herself wor- 
thy of the admiration of mankind. " Nothing daunted 
by failure after failure, through twelve long years of 
hope deferred, she had perserved, with a singleness of 
purpose and a sincere devotion which were truly unpar- 
alleled. And now that her one last expedition of the 



188 Women Philanthropists. 

Fox^ under the gallant M'Clintock, had realized the two 
great facts — that her husband had traversed wide seas 
unknown to former navigators, and died in discovering 
a north-west passage — then, surely, the adjudication of 
the medal would be hailed by the nation as one of the 
many recompenses to which the widow of the illustrious 
Franklin was so eminently entitled. ■" 

But that devotion to duty which marks the heroic 
character has more often been exhibited by women 
in deeds of charity and mercy. The greater part of 
these are never known, for they are done in private, 
out of the public sight, and for the mere love of 
doing good. Where fame has come to them, because 
of the success which has attended their labors in 
a more general sphere, it has come unsought and 
unexpected, and is often felt as a burden. Who 
has not heard of Mrs. Fry and Miss Carpenter as 
prison- visitors and reformers; of Mrs. Chisholm and 
Miss Rye as promoters of emigration; and of Miss 
Nightingale and Miss Garrett as apostles of hospital 
nursing ? 

That these women should have emerged from the 
sphere of private and domestic life to become leaders 
in philanthropy, indicates no small degree of moral 
courage on their part; for to women, above all others-, 
quiet and ease and retirement are most natural and 
welcome. Very few women step beyond the bound- 
aries of home in search of a larger field of usefulness. 
But when they have desired one, they have had no 



T Vbm e i i pji if a nth ropists. 



m» 



difficulty in rinding it. The ways in which men and 
women can help their neighbors are innumerable. 
It needs but the willing heart and ready hand. 
Most of the philanthropic workers we have named, 
however, have scarcely been influenced by choice. 
The duty lay in their way — it seemed to be the nearest 
to them — and they set about doing it without desire for 
fame, or any other reward but the approval of their 
own conscience. 




CHAPTER XVIII 



SELF-CONTROL. 



Self-control the Root of the Virtues. — Value of Discipline. — Supremacy 
of Self-control. — Domestic Discipline. — Virtue of Patience. — Character 
of Hampden. 

"Honor and profit do not always lie in the same sack." — George 
Herbert. 

0( ELF-CONTROL is only courage under another 
A-^ form. It may almost be regarded as the primary 
essence of character. It is in virtue of this quality that 
Shakspeare defines man as a being "looking before and 
after.' ' It forms the chief distinction between man and 
the mere animal; and, indeed, there can be no true man- 
hood without it. 

Self-control is at the root of all the virtues. Let a 
man give the reins to his impulses and passions, and 
from that moment he yields up his moral freedom. He 
is carried along the current of life, and becomes the 
slave of his strongest desire for the time being. 

To be morally free — to be more than an animal — 

man must be able to resist instinctive impulse, and this 

can only be done by the exercise of self-control. Thus 

it is this power which constitutes the real distinction 

190 



The Value of Discipline. 191 

between a physical and a moral life, and that forms the 
primary basis of individual character. 

In the Bible praise is given, not to the strong man 
who wi taketh a city," but to the stronger man who k ' ru- 
leth his own spirit.' , This stronger man is he who, by 
discipline, exercises a constant control over his thoughts, 
his speech, and his acts. Nine-tenths of the vicious 
desires that degrade society, and which, when indulged, 
swell into the crimes that disgrace it, would shrink into 
insignificance before the advance of valiant self-disci- 
pline, self-respect, and self-control. By the watchful 
exercise of these virtues, purity of heart and mind be- 
come habitual, and the character is built up in chastity, 
virtue, and temperance. 

The best support of character will always be found 
in habit, which, according as the will is directed rightly 
or wrongly, as the case may be, will prove either a be- 
nignant ruler or a cruel despot. We may be its willing 
subject on the one hand, or its servile slave on the 
other. It may help us on the road to good, or it may 
hurry us on the road to ruin. 

Habit is formed by careful training. And it is aston- 
ishing how much can be accomplished by systematic 
discipline and drill. See how, for instance, out of the 
most unpromising materials — such as roughs picked up 
in the streets, or raw unkempt country lads taken from 
the plough — steady discipline and drill will bring out 
the unsuspected qualities of , courage, endurance, and 
self-sacrifice; and how, in the field of battle, or even 



192 Supremacy of Self-Control. 

on the more trying occasions of perils by sea^such as 
the burning- of the Sarah Sands or the wreck of the 
Birkenhead — such men, carefully disciplined, will ex- 
hibit the unmistakable characteristics of true bravery 
and heroism! 

Nor is moral discipline and drill less influential in the 
formation of character. Without it, there will be no 
proper system and order in the regulation of the life. 
Upon it depends the cultivation of the sense of self- 
respect, the education of the habit of obedience, the de- 
velopment of the idea of duty. The most self-reliant, 
self-governing man is always under discipline; and the 
more perfect the discipline, the higher will be his moral 
•condition. He has to drill his desires, and keep them 
in subjection to the higher powers of his nature. They 
must obey the word of command of the internal moni- 
tor, the conscience — otherwise they will be but the 
mere slaves of their inclinations, the sport of feeling, 
and impulse. 

"In the supremacy of self-control," says Herbert 
Spencer, " consist one of the perfections of the ideal 
man. Not to be impulsive — not to be spurred hither 
and thither by each desire that in turn comes upper- 
most — but to be self-restrained, self-balanced, governed 
by the joint decision of the feelings in council assem- 
bled, before whom every action shall have been fully 
debated and calmly determined — that it is which edu- 
cation, moral education at least, strives to produce. 

The first seminary of moral discipline, and the best, 



Domestic Discipline. 193 

as we have already shown, is the home; next comes 
the school, and after that the world, the great school of 
practical life. Each is preparatory to the other, and 
what the man or woman becomes^ depends for the most 
part upon what has gone before. If they have enjoyed 
the advantage of neither the home nor the school, but 
have been allowed to grow up untrained, untaught, and 
undisciplined, then woe to themselves — woe to the 
society of which they form a part ! 

The best-regulated home is always that in which the 
discipline is the most perfect, and yet where it is the 
least felt. Moral discipline acts with the force of a law 
of nature. Those subject to it yield themselves to it 
unconsciously: and though it shapes and forms the 
whole character, until the life becomes crvstallized in 
habit, the influence thus exercised is for the most part 
unseen and almost unfelt. 

The importance of strict domestic discipline is cu- 
riously illustrated by a fact mentioned in Mrs. Schim- 
melpenninck's Memoirs, to the following effect: that a 
lady, who, with her husband, had inspected most of the 
lunatic asylums of England and the Continent, found 
the most numerous class of patients was almost always 
composed of those who had been only children, and 
whose wills had, therefore, rarely been thwarted or dis- 
ciplined in early life; while those who were members 
of large families, and who had been trained in self-dis- 
cipline, were far less frequent victims to the malady. 

Although the moral character depends in a great 



194 Self- Discipline. 

degree on temperament and on physical health, as well 
as on domestic and early training and the example of 
companions, it is also in the power of each individual to 
regulate, to restrain, and to discipline it by watchful and 
persevering self-control. A competent teacher has said 
of the propensities and habits, that they are as teachable 
as Latin and Greek, while they are much more essential 
to happiness. 

Dr. Johnson, though himself constitutionally prone 
to melancholy, and afflicted by it as few have been from 
his earliest years, said that " a man's being in a good 
or bad humor very much depends upon his will." We 
may train ourselves in a habit of patience and content- 
ment on the one hand, or of grumbling and discontent 
on the other. We may accustom ourselves to exag- 
gerate small evil, and to underestimate great blessings. 
We may even become the victim of petty miseries by 
giving way to them. Thus, we may educate ourselves 
in a happy disposition, as well as in a morbid one. In- 
deed, the habit of viewing things cheerfully, and of 
thinking about life hopefully, may be made to grow up 
in us like any other habit. It was not an exaggerated 
estimate of Dr. Johnson to say that the habit of looking 
at the best side of any event is worth far more than a 
thousand pounds a year. 

The religious man's life is pervaded by rigid self-dis- 
cipline and self-restraint. He is to be sober and vigi- 
lant, to eschew evil and do good, to walk in the Spirit, 
to be obedient unto death, to withstand in the evil day > 



Tlte Virtue of Patience. 195 

and, having done all, to stand; to wrestle against spirit- 
ual wickedness, and against the rulers of the darkness 
of this world ; to be rooted and built up in faith, and 
not to be weary of well doing; for in due season he 
shall reap, if he faint not. 

The man of business, also, must needs be subject to 
strict rule and system. Business, like life, is managed 
by moral leverage; success in both depending in no 
small degree upon that regulation of temper and careful 
self discipline, which give a wise man not only a com- 
mand over himself, but over others. Forbearance and 
self-control smooth the road of life, and open many ways 
which would otherwise remain closed. And so does 
self-respect; for as men respect themselves, so will they 
usually Tespect the personality of others. 

It is the same in politics as in business. Success in 
that sphere of life is achieved less by talent than by 
temper, less by genius than by character. If a man 
have not self-control, he will lack patience, be wanting 
in tact, and have neither the power of governing him- 
self nor of managing others. When the quality most 
needed in a prime minister was the subject of conversa- 
tion in the presence of Mr. Pitt, one of the speakers said 
it was " eloquence;" another said it was "knowledge;" 
and a third said it was "toil." "No," said Pitt, "it 
is patience! " And patience means self-control, a quali- 
ty in which he himself was superb. His friend George 
Rose has said of him that he never once saw Pitt out of 
temper. Yet, although patience is usually regarded as 



19(5 Character of Hampden* 

a " slow virtue. Pitt combined with it the most extraor- 
dinary readiness, vigor, and rapidity of thought as well 
as action. 

It is by patience and self-control that the truly heroic 
character is perfected. These were among the most 
prominent characteristics of the great Hampden, whose 
noble qualities were generously acknowledged even by 
his political enemies. Thus Clarendon described him 
as a man of rare temper and modesty, naturally cheerful 
and vivacious, and above all, rjf a flowing courtesy. He 
was kind and intrepid, yet gentle, of unblamable conver- 
sation, and his heart glowed with love to all men. He 
was not a man of many words, but, being of unimpeach- 
able character, every word he uttered carried weight. 
" No man had ever a greater power over himself. . . . 
He was very temperate in diet, and a supreme governor 
over all his passions and affections; and he had thereby 
great power over other men's." Sir Philip Warwick, 
another of his political opponents, incidentally describes 
his great influence in a certain debate: u We had catch- 
ed at each other's locks, and sheathed our swords in 
each other's bowels, had not the sagacity and great 
calmness of Mr. Hampden, by a short speech, prevented 
it, and led us to defer our angry debate until the next 
morning. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

STRONG TEMPER. 

Evils of Strong Temper. — Strafford, Cromwell, Washington, Wellington, etc. 
—Instances of Self-control.— Faraday, Anquetil.— Forbearance of Speech. 
— Honest Indignation. 

" The Government of one's self is the only true freedom for the indi- 
vidual. " — Frederick Perthes. 

\ 

STRONG temper is not necessarily a bad tem- 
per. But the stronger the temper, the greater is 
the need of self-discipline and self-control. Dr. Johnson 
says men grow better as they grow older, and improve 
with experience; but this depends upon the width and 
depth and generousness of their nature. It is not men's 
faults that ruin them so much as the manner in which 
they conduct themselves after the faults have been com- 
mitted. The wise will profit by the suffering they 
cause, and eschew them for the future; but there are 
those on whom experience exerts no ripening influence, 
and who only grow narrower and bitterer, and more 
vicious with time. 

What is called strong temper in a young man, often 
indicates a large amount of unripe energy, which will 
expend itself in useful work if the road be fairly opened 

197 



198 Evils of Strong Temper. 

to it. It is said of Stephen Girard, a Frenchman, who 
pursued a remarkably successful career in the United 
States, that when he heard of a clerk with a strong tem- 
per, he would readily take him into his employment, and 
set him to work in a room by himself; Girard being of 
opinion that such persons were the best workers, and 
that their energy would expend itself in work if remov- 
ed from the temptation to quarrel. 

Strong temper may only mean a strong and excitable 
will. Uncontrolled, it displays itself in fitful outbreaks 
of passion; but controlled and held in subjection — like 
steam pent-up within the organized mechanism of a 
steam-engine, the use of which is regulated and con- 
trolled by slide-valves and governors and levers — it 
may become a source of energetic power and useful- 
ness. Hence some of the greatest characters in history 
have been men of strong temper, but of equally strong 
determination to hold their motive-power under strict 
regulation and control. 

Cromwell is described as having been of a wayward 
and violent temper in his youth — cross, untracta- 
ble, and masterless — with a vast quantity of youthful 
energy, which exploded in a variety of youthful mis- 
chiefs. He even obtained the reputation of a roysterer 
in his native town, and seemed to be rapidly going to 
the bad, when religion, in one of its most rigid forms, 
laid hold upon his strong nature, and subjected it to the 
iron discipline of Calvinism. An entirely new direction 
was thus given to his energy of temperament, which 



Uses of Strong Temper. 199 

forced an outlet for itself into public life, and eventually 
became the dominating influence in England for a period 
of nearly twenty years. 

Mr. Motley compares William the Silent to Washing- 
ton, whom he in many respects resembled. The Ameri- 
can, like the Dutch patriot, stands out in history as the 
very impersonation of dignity, bravery, purity, and per- 
sonal excellence. His command over his feelings, even 
in moments of great difficulty and danger, was sucji as 
to convey the impression, to those who did not know 
him intimately, that he was a man of inborn calmness 
and almost impassiveness of disposition. Yet Wash- 
ington was by nature ardent and impetuous; his mild- 
ness, gentleness, politeness, and consideration for others, 
were the result of rigid self-control and unwearied self- 
discipline, which he diligently practiced even from his 
boyhood. His biographer says of him, that " his tem- 
perament was ardent, his passions strong, and, amidst 
the multiplied scenes of temptation and excitement 
through which he passed, it was his constant effort, 
and ultimate triumph, to check the one and subdue the 
other." And again: " His passions were strong, and 
sometimes they broke out with vehemence, but he had 
the power of checking them in an instant. Perhaps 
self-control was the most remarkable trait of his char- 
acter. It was in part the effect of discipline; yet he 
seems by nature to have possessed this power in a 
degree which has been denied to other men." 

The Duke of Wellington's natural temper, like that 



200 Power of Self-Restraint. 

of Napoleon, was irritable in the extreme, and it was 
only by watchful self control that he was enabled to 
restrain it. He studied calmness and coolness in the 
midst of danger, like an Indian chief. At Waterloo, 
and elsewhere, he gave his orders in the most critical 
moments without the slightest excitement, and in a tone 
of voice almost more than usually subdued. 

A man may be feeble in organization, but, blessed 
with a happy temperament, his soul may be great, act- 
ive, noble, and sovereign. Professor Tyndall has given 
us a fine picture of the character of Faraday, and of his 
self-denying labors in the cause of science — exhibiting 
him as a man of strong, original, and even fiery nature, 
and yet of extreme tenderness and sensibility. "Un- 
derneath his sweetness and gentleness," he says, "was 
the heat of a volcano. He was a man of excitable and 
fiery nature; but, through high self-discipline, he had 
converted the fire into a central glow and motive-power 
of life, instead of permitting it to waste itself in useless 
passion." 

There was one fine feature in Faraday's character 
which is worthy of notice — one closely akin to self-con- 
trol: it was his self-denial. By devoting himself to 
analytical chemistry, he might have speedily realized a 
large fortune; but he nobly resisted the temptation, 
and preferred to follow the path of pure science. " Tak- 
ing the duration of his life into account," says Mr. Tyn- 
dall, " this son of a blacksmith and apprentice to a book- 
binder had to decide between a fortune of $750,000 on 



Self- Denial 201 

the one side, and his undowered science on the other r 
he chose the latter, and died a poor man. But his was 
the glory of holding aloft among the nations the scien- 
tific name of England for a period of forty years. 1 ' 

Take a like instance of the self-denial of a Frenchman. 
The historian Anquetil was one of the small numbers of 
literary men in France who refused to bow to the Na- 
poleonic yoke. He sank into great poverty, living on 
bread-and-milk, and limiting his expenditure to only 
three sous a day. " I have still two sous a day left," 
said he, " for the conqueror of Marengo and Auster- 
litz." " But if you fall sick," said a friend to him, 
" you will need the help of a pension. Why not do as 
others do ? Pay court to the emperor — you have need 
of him to live." " I do not need him to die," was the 
historian's reply. But Anquetil did not die in poverty; 
he lived to the age of ninety-four, saying to a friend, on 
the eve of his death, " Come, see a man who dies still 
full of life!" * 

If a man would get through life honorably and peace- 
ably, he must necessarily learn to practice self-denial in 
small things as well as great. Men have to bear as well 
as forbear. The temper has to be held in subjection to 
the judgment; and the little demons of ill-humor, petu- 
lance, and sarcasm, kept resolutely at a distance. If 
once they find an entrance to the mind, they are very 
apt to return, and to establish for themselves a perma- 
nent occupation there. 

It is necessary to one's personal happiness, to exercise 



202 Self -Control in Speech. 

■ 

control over one's words as well as acts: for there are 
words that strike even harder than blows; and men 
may " speak daggers," though they use none. " Un 
coup de langue" says the French proverb, a est pire 
qu?un coup de lance" The stinging repartee that rises 
to the lips, and which, if uttered, might cover an adver- 
sary with confusion, how difficult it sometimes is to 
resist saying it ! " Heaven keep us," says Miss Bremer, 
in her " Home," " from the destroying power of words! 
There are words which sever hearts more than sharp 
swords do; there are words the point of which sting 
the heart through the course of a whole life." 

Thus character exhibits itself in self-control of speech 
as much as in anything else. The wise and forbearant 
man will restrain his desire to say a smart or severe 
thing at the expense of another's feelings; while the 
fool blurts out what he thinks, and will sacrifice his 
friend rather than his joke. " The mouth of a wise 
man," said Solomon, "is in his heart; the heart of a 
fool is in his mouth." 

There are, however, men who are no fools, that are 
headlong in their language as in their acts, because of 
their want of forbearance and self-restraining patience. 
The impulsive genius, gifted with quick thought and in- 
cisive speech — perhaps carried away by the cheers of the 
moment — lets fly a sarcastic sentence which may return 
upon him to his own infinite damage. Even statesmen 
might be named, who have failed through their inability 
to resist the temptation of saying clever and spiteful 



Self- Control in Speech 203 

things at their adversary's expense. " The turn of a sen- 
tence, 1 ' says Bentham, " has decided the fate of many a 
friendship, and, for aught that we know, the fate of 
many a kingdom." So, when one is tempted to write a 
clever but harsh thing, though it may be difficult to 
restrain it, it is always better to leave it in the inkstand. 

" A goose's quill," says the Spanish proverb, "often 
hurts more than a lion's claw." 

Carlyle says, when speaking of Oliver Cromwell, " He 
that can not withal keep his mind to himself, can not 
practice any considerable thing whatsoever." It was 
said of William the Silent, by one of his greatest ene- 
mies, that an arrogant or indiscreet word was never 
known to fall from his lips. Like him, Washington 
was discretion itself in the use of speech, never taking 
advantage of an opponent, or seeking a short lived tri- 
umph in a debate. And it is said that, in the long run, 
the world comes round to and supports the wise man 
who knows when and how to be silent. 

We have heard men of great experience say that 
they have often regretted having spoken, but never 
once regretted holding their tongue. u Be silent," says 
Pythagoras, " or say something better than silence." 
" Speak fitly," says George Herbert, " or be silent wise- 
ly." St. Francis de Sales, whom Leigh Hunt styled 
"the Gentleman Saint," has said: ' ; It is better to re- 
main silent than to speak the truth ill-humoredly, and 
so spoil an excellent dish by covering it with bad 
sauce." Another Frenchman, Lacordaire, characteris- 



204: The Expression of Indignation. 

tically puts speech first, and silence next. " After 
speech," he says, " silence is the greatest power in the 
world.' 1 Yet a word spoken in season, how powerful it 
may be! As the old Welsh proverb has it, " A golden 
tongue is in the mouth of the blessed. " 

It is related, as a remarkable instance of self-control 
on the part of De Leon, a distinguished Spanish poet of 
the sixteenth century, who lay for years in the dungeons 
of the Inquisition without light or society, because of his 
having translated a part of the Scriptures into his native 
tongue, that, on being liberated and restored to his pro- 
fessorship, an immense crowd attended his first lecture, 
expecting some account of his long imprisonment; but 
De Leon was too wise and too gentle to indulge in 
recrimination. He merely resumed the lecture which, 
five years before, had been so sadly interrupted, with 
the accustomed formula " Heri dicebamus" and went 
directly into his subject. 

There are, of course, times and occasions when the 
expression of indignation is not only justifiable but nec- 
essary. We are bound to be indignant at falsehood, 
selfishness, and cruelty. A man of true feeling fires up 
naturally at baseness or meanness of any sort, even in 
cases where he may be under no obligation to speak 
out. " I would have nothing to do," said Perthes, 
" with the man who can not be moved to indignation. 
There are more good people than bad in the world, and 
the bad get the upper hand merely because they are 
bolder. We can not help being pleased with a man 



Practiced Wisdom. 205 

who uses his powers with decision, and we often take 
his side for no other reason than because he does so use 
them. No doubt, I have often repented speaking; but 
not less often have I repented keeping silence." 

One who loves right can not be indifferent to wrong, 
or wrong-doing. If he feels warmly, he will speak 
warmly, out of the fullness of his heart. As a noble 
lady has written: 

"A noble heart doth teach a virtuous scorn — 

To scorn to owe a duty overlong, 
To scorn to be for benefits forborne, 

To scorn to lie, to scorn to do a wrong, 
To scorn to bear an injury in mind. 
To scorn a freeborn heart slave like to bind." 

We have, however, to be on our guard against impa- 
tient scorn. The best people are apt to have their 
impatient side, and often the very temper which makes 
men earnest makes them also intolerant. " Of all men- 
tal gifts," says Miss Julia Wedgwood, "the rarest is 
intellectual patience; and the last lesson of culture is to 
believe in difficulties which are invisible to ourselves." 
The best corrective of intolerance in disposition, is 
increase of wisdom and enlarged experience of life. 
Cultivated good sense will usually save men from the 
entanglements in which moral impatience is apt to involve 
them: good sense consisting chiefly in that temper of 
mind which enables its possessor to deal with the prac- 
tical affairs of life with justice, judgment, discretion, 
and charity. Hence men of culture and experience are 
invariably found the most forbearant and tolerant, as 



206 Practical • Wisdom. 

ignorant and narrow-minded persons are found the most 
unforgiving and intolerant. Men of large and generous 
natures, in proportion to their practical wisdom, are dis- 
posed to make allowance for the defects and disadvan- 
tages of others — allowing for the controlling power 
of circumstances in the formation of character, and the 
limited power of resistance of weak and fallible natures 
to temptation and error. " I see no fault committed," 
said Goethe,' ' which I also might not have committed."" 
So a wise and good man exclaimed, when he saw a crim- 
inal drawn on his hurdle to Tyburn: " There goes Jona- 
than Bradford — but for the grace of God!" 




CHAPTER XX. 



FORBEARANCE HONESTY. 



Forbearance in Conduct. — Faraday's Practical Philosophy. — Burns's Want 
of Self-control. — Beranger. — Tyranny of Appetite. — Honesty of Liying. 
— Dishonesty of Improvidence. — Public Honesty. — Sir Walter Scott's- 
Heroic Effort to pay his Debts. — Lockhart and Scott. 

" It is in length of patience, and endurance, and forbearance, that so 
much of what is good in mankind and womankind is shown." — Arthur 
Helps. 

T IFE will always be, to a great extent, what we our- 
-^-\ selves make it. The cheerful man makes a cheer- 
ful world, the gloomy man a gloomy one. We usually 
find but our own temperament reflected in the disposi- 
tions of those about us. If we are ourselves querulous,. 
we will find them so; if we are unforgiving and unchar- 
itable to them, they will be the same to us. A person 
returning from an evening party not long ago, com- 
plained to a policeman on his beat that an ill-looking 
fellow was following him: it turned out to be only hi's 
own shadow! And such usually is human life to each 
of us; it is, for the most part, but the reflection of 
ourselves. 

If we would be at peace with others, and insure their 
respect, we must have regard for their personality. 

207 



208 Forbearance toivards Others. 

Every man has his peculiarities of manner and character, 
as he has peculiarities of form and feature; and we 
must have forbearance in dealing with them, as we ex- 
pect them to have forbearance in dealing with us. We 
may not be conscious of our own peculiarities, yet they 
exist nevertheless. There is a village in South America 
where gotos or goitres are so common that to be with- 
out one is regarded as a deformity. One day a party 
of Englishmen passed through the place, when quite a 
crowd collected to jeer them, shouting, " See, see these 
people — they have got no gotos J" 

Many persons give themselves a great deal of fidget 
concerning what other people think of them and their 
peculiarities. Some are too much disposed to take the 
ill-natured side, and, judging by themselves, infer the 
worst. But it is very often the case that the unchari- 
tableness of others, where it really exists, is but the re- 
flection of our own want of charity and want of temper. 
It still oftener happens, that the worry we subject our- 
selves to has its source in our own imagination. And 
even though those about us may think of us uncharita- 
bly, we shall not mend matters by exasperating ourselves 
against them. We may thereby only expose ourselves 
unnecessarily to their ill-nature or caprice. " The ill that 
comes out of our mouth," says George Herbert,. " oft- 
times falls into our bosom.' 

The great and good philosopher Faraday communi- 
cated the following piece of admirable advice, full of 
practical wisdom, the result of a rich experience of life, 



Faraday's Practical Philosophy- 209" 

in a letter to his friend, Professor Tyndall: " Let me, 
as an old man, who ought by this time to have profited 
by experience, say that when I was younger, I found I 
often misrepresented the intentions of people, and that 
they did not mean what at the time I supposed they 
meant ; and further, that as a general rule, it was better 
to be a little dull of apprehension where phrases seemed 
to imply pique, and quick in perception when, on the 
contrary, they seemed to imply kindly feeling. The real 
truth never fails ultimately to appear; and opposing 
parties, if wrong, are sooner convinced when replied to 
forbearingly, than when overwhelmed. All I mean to 
say is, that it is better to be blind to the results of par- 
tisanship, and quick to see good-will. One has more 
happiness in one's self in endeavoring to follow the 
things that make for peace. You can hardly imagine 
how often I have been heated in private when opposed, 
as I have thought unjustly and superciliously, and yet I 
have striven, and succeeded, I hope, in keeping down re- 
plies of the like kind ; and I know I have never lost by it." 
While the painter Barry was at Rome, he involved 
himself, as was his wont, in furious quarrels with the 
artists and dilettanti, about picture-painting and picture- 
dealing, upon which his friend and countryman, Edmund 
Burke — always the generous friend of struggling merit 
— wrote to him kindly and sensibly: " Believe me, dear 
Barry, that the arms with which the ill dispositions of 
the world are to be combatted, and the qualities by 
which it is to be reconciled to us, and we reconciled to 



210 Burns } s Want of Self -Control. 

it, are moderation, gentleness, a little indulgence to 
others, and a great deal of distrust of ourselves; which 
are not qualities of a mean spirit, as some may possibly 
think them, but virtues of a great and noble kind, and 
such as dignify our nature as much as they contribute 
to our repose and fortune; for nothing can be so un- 
worthy of a well-composed soul as to pass away life in 
bickerings and litigations — in snarling and scuffling with 
every one about us. We must be at peace with our 
species, if not for their sakes, at least very much for our 
own." 

No one knew the value of self-control better than the 
poet Burns, and no one could teach it more eloquently 
to others; but when it came to practice, Burns was as 
weak as the weakest. He could not deny himself the 
pleasure of uttering a harsh and clever sarcasm at 
another's expense. One of his biographers observes of 
him, that it was no extravagant arithmetic to say that 
for every ten jokes he made himself a hundred enemies. 
But this was not all. Poor Burns exercised no control 
over his appetites, but freely gave them the rein: 

" Thus thoughtless follies laid him low 
i\nd stained his name." 

Beranger who has been styled " the Burns of France, ,v 
was of the same bright incisive genius; he had the same 
love of pleasure, the same love of popularity; and while 
he flattered French vanity to the top of its bent, he also 
painted the vices most loved by his countrymen with 
the pen of a master. Beranger's songs and Thiers's 



Mischief of Berangers Songs. 211 

History probably did more than any thing else to re- 
establish the Napoleonic dynasty in France. But that 
was a small evil compared with the moral mischief 
which many of Befanger's songs are calculated to pro- 
duce; for, circulating freely as they do in French 
households, they exhibit pictures of nastiness and vice 
which are enough to pollute and destroy a nation. 

One of Burns 's finest poems, written in his twenty- 
eighth year, is entitled "A Bard's Epitaph." It is a 
description, by anticipation, of his own life. Words- 
worth has said of it: "Here is a sincere and solemn 
avowal; a public declaration from his own will; a con- 
fession at once devout, \poetical, and human; a history 
in the shape of a prophecy. " It concludes with these 
lines: 

" Reader, attend — whether thy soul 
Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, 
Or darkling grubs this earthly hole 

In low pursuit; 
Know — prudent, cautious self-control, 

Is Wisdom's root." 

One of the vices before which Burns fell — and it may 
be said to be a master-vice, because it is productive of 
so many other vices — was drinking. Not that he was 
a drunkard, but because he yielded to the temptations of 
drink, with its degrading associations, and thereby low- 
ered and depraved his whole nature. But poor Burns 
did not stand alone; for, alas! of all vices, the unre- 
strained appetite for drink was in his time, as it contin- 
ues to be now, the most prevalent, popular, degrading, 
and destructive. 



212 The Tyranny of Appetite* . 

Were it possible to conceive the existence of a tyrant 
Who should compel his people to give up to him one- 
third or more of their earnings, and require them at the 
same time to consume a commodity that should brutal- 
ize and degrade them, destroy the peace and comfort of 
their families, and sow in themselves the seeds of dis- 
ease and premature death — what indignation meetings, 
what monster processions, there would be! What elo- 
quent speeches and apostrophes to the spirit of liberty! 
— what appeals against despotism so monstrous and 
so unnatural! And yet such a tyrant really exists 
among us — the tyrant of unrestrained appetite, whom 
no force of arms, or voices or votes can resist, while 
men are willing to be his slaves. 

The power of this tyrant can only be overcome by 
moral means — by self-discipline, self-respect, and self- 
control. The pursuit of ignoble pleasure is the degra- 
dation of true happiness, it saps the morals, destroys the 
energies, and degrades the manliness and robustness of 
individuals as of nations. 

The courage of self-control exhibits itself in many 
ways, but in none more clearly than in honest living. 
Men without the virtue of self-denial are not only sub- 
ject to their own selfish desires, but they are usually in 
bondage to others who are like-minded with themselves. 
What others do, they do. They must live according to 
the artificial standard of their class, spending like their 
neighbors, regardless of the consequences, at the same 
time that all are, perhaps, aspiring after a style of living 



Honest Living. 213 

higher than their means. Each carries the others along 
with him, and they have not the moral courage to stop. 
They cannot resist the temptation of living high, though 
it may be at the expense of others ; and they gradually 
become reckless of debt, until it enthralls them. In all 
this there is great moral cowardice, pusillanimity, and 
want of manly independence of character. 

A right-minded man will shrink from seeming to be 
what he is not, or pretending to be richer than he really 
is, or assuming a style of living that his circumstances 
will not justify. He will have the courage to live hon- 
estly within his own means, rather than dishonestly upon 
the means of other people; for he who incurs debts in 
striving to maintain a style of living beyond his income, 
is in spirit as dishonest as the man who openly picks 
your pocket. 

To many this may seem an extreme view, but it will 
bear the strictest test. Living at the cost of others is 
not only dishonesty, but it is untruthfulness in deed, as 
lying is in word. The proverb of George Herbert, that 
" debtors are liars," is justified by experience. Shaftes- 
bury somewhere says that a restlessness to have some- 
thing which we have not, and to be something which 
we are not, is the root of all immorality. No reliance 
is to be placed on the saying — a very dangerous one — 
of Mirabeau, that " La petite morale etait Pennemie de 
la grande.^ On the contrary, strict adherence to even 
the smallest details of morality is the foundation of all 
manly and noble character. 



214 The Virtue of Honesty. 

The honorable man is frugal of his means, and pays 
his way honestly. He does not seek to pass himself off 
as richer than he is, or, by running into debt, open an 
account with ruin. As that man is not poor whose 
means are small but whose desires are under control, so 
that man is rich whose means are more than sufficient 
for his wants. When Socrates saw a great quantity of 
riches, jewels, and furniture of great value, carried in 
pomp through Athens, he said, "Now do I see how 
many things I do not desire." " I can forgive every 
thing but selfishness," said Perthes. " Even the narrow- 
est circumstances admit of greatness with reference to 
i mine and thine ; ' and none but the very poorest need 
fill their daily life with thoughts of money, if they have 
but prudence to arrange their housekeeping within the 
limits of their income. " 

A man may be indifferent to money because of higher 
considerations, as Faraday was, who sacrificed wealth to 
pursue science; but if he would have the enjoyments 
that money can purchase, he must honestly earn it, and 
not live upon the earnings of others, as those do who 
habitually incur debts which they have no means of 
paying. When Maginn, always drowned in debt, was 
asked what he paid for his wine, he replied that he did 
not know, but he believed they " put something down 
in a book." 

This " putting-down in a book" has proved the ruin 
of a great many weak-minded people who can not resist 
the temptation of taking things upon credit which they 



Sydney Smith's Honesty. 215 

have not the present means of paying for; and it would 
probably prove a great social benefit if the law which 
enables creditors to recover debts contracted under cer- 
tain circumstances were altogether abolished. But, in 
the competition for trade, every encouragement is given 
to the incurring of debt, the creditor relying upon the 
law to aid him in the last extremity. When Sydney 
Smith once went into a new neighborhood, it was given 
out in the local papers that he was a man of high con- 
nections, and he was besought on all sides for his "cus- 
tom.' 1 But he speedily undeceived his new neighbors. 
" We are not great people at all," he said: " we are only 
common honest people — people that pay our debts. 11 

Hazlitt, who was a thoroughly honest though rather 
thriftless man, speaks of two classes of persons, not 
unlike each other — those who can not keep their own 
money in their hands, and those who can not keep their 
hands from other peopled. The former are always in 
want of money, for they throw it away on any object 
that first presents itself, as if to get rid of it ; the latter 
make away with what they have of their own, and are 
perpetual borrowers from all who will lend to them; 
and their genius for borrowing, in the long run, usually 
proves their ruin. 

Sheridan was one of such eminent unfortunates. He 
was impulsive and careless in his expenditure, borrow- 
ing money, and running into debt with every body who 
would trust him. When he stood for Westminster, his 
unpopularity arose chiefly from his general indebted- 



216 Sheridaris Public Honesty. 

ness. " Numbers of poor people," says Lord Palmer- 
ston in one of his letters, " crowded round the hustings, 
demanding payment for the bills he owed them." In 
the midst of all his difficulties, Sheridan was as light- 
hearted as ever, and cracked many a good joke at his 
creditor's expense. Lord Palmerston was actually 
present at the dinner given by him, at which the sheriff's 
officers in possession were dressed up and officiated as 
waiters. 

Yet, however loose Sheridan's morality may have 
been as regarded his private creditors, he was honest so 
far as the public money was concerned. Once, at a 
dinner, at which Lord Byron happened to be present, an 
observation happened to be made as to the sturdiness of 
the Whigs in resisting office and keeping to their prin- 
ciples — on which Sheridan turned sharply round, and 
said: " Sir, it is easy for my Lord this, or Earl that, or 
the Marquis of t'other, with thousands upon thousands 
a year, some of it either presently derived or inherited 
in sinecure or acquisitions from the public money, to 
boast of their patriotism and keep aloof from tempta- 
tion; but they do not know from what temptaticn those 
have kept aloof who had equal pride, at least equal tal- 
ents, and not unequal passions, and nevertheless knew 
not, in the course of their lives, what it was to have a 
shilling of their own." And Lord Byron adds, that, in 
saying this Sheridan wept. x . 

The tone of public morality in money matters was 
very low in those days. Political peculation was not 



Public Honesty. 217 

thought discreditable; and heads of parties did not hes- 
itate to secure the adhesion of their followers by a free 
use of the public money. They were generous, but at 
the expense of others — like that great local magnate, 
who, 

" Out of his great bounty, 
Built a bridge at the expense of the county." 

When Lord Cornwallis was appointed Lord Lieu- 
tenant of Ireland, he pressed upon Colonel Napier, the 
father of the Napiers, the comptrollership of army ac- 
counts. "I want, 1 ' said his lordship, " an honest man, 
and this is the only thing I have been able to wrest 
from the harpies around me. 1 ' 

It is said that Lord Chatham was the first to set the 
example of disdaining to govern by petty larceny; and 
his great son was alike honest in his administration. 
While millions of money were passing through Pitt's 
hands, he himself was never otherwise than poor; and 
he died poor. Of all his rancorous libellers, not one 
ever ventured to call in question his honesty. 

In former times, the profits of office were sometimes 
enormous. When Audley, the famous annuity-monger 
of the sixteenth century, was asked the value of an 
office which he had purchased in the Court of Wards, 
he replied: " Some thousands to any one who wishes to 
get to heaven immediately; twice as much to him who 
does not mind being in purgatory; and nobody knows 
what to him who is not afraid of the devil." 

Sir Walter Scott was a man who was honest to the 



218 Sir Walter Scott. 

core of his nature; and his strenuous and determined 
efforts to pay his debts, or rather the debts of the firm 
with which he had become involved, has always 
appeared to us one of the grandest things in biography. 
When his publisher and printer broke down, ruin seem- 
ed to stare him in the face. There was no want of sym- 
pathy for him in his great misfortune, and friends came 
forward who offered to raise money enough to enable 
'him to arrange with his creditors. "No!" said he, 
proudly; " this right hand shall work it all off ! " " If 
we lose every thing else," he wrote to a friend, " we 
will at least keep our honor unblemished." While his 
health was already becoming undermined by overwork, 
he went on " writing like a tiger," as he himself 
expressed it, until no longer able to wield a pen; and 
though he paid the penalty of his supreme efforts with 
his life, he nevertheless saved his honor and his self- 
respect. 

Everybody knows how Scott threw off "Woodstock," 
the "Life of Napoleon " (which he thought would be 
his death), articles for the "Quarterly," " Chronicles of 
the Canongate," " Prose Miscellanies," and " Tales of a 
Grandfather " — all written in the midst of pain, sorrow, 
and ruin. The proceeds of those various works went 
to his creditors. " I could not have slept sound," he 
wrote, " as I now can, under the comfortable impression 
of receiving the thanks of my creditors, and the con- 
scious feeling of discharging my duty as a man of honor 
and honesty. I see before me a long, tedious, and dark 



Scott's Courage and Honesty* 219 

path, but it leads to stainless reputation. If I die in the 
harrows, as is very likely, I shall die with honor. If I 
achieve my task, I shall have the thanks of all concerned, 
and the approbation of my own conscience." 

And then followed more articles, memoirs, and even 
sermons — " The Fair Maid of Perth, 1 ' a completely 
revised edition of his novels, " Anne of Geierstein," and 
more " Tales of a Grandfather" — until he was suddenly 
struck down by paralysis. But he had no sooner re- 
covered sufficient strength to be able to hold a pen, than 
we find him again at his desk writing the " Letters on 
Demonology and Witchcraft," a volume of Scottish 
History for " Lardner's Cyclopaedia," and a fourth series 
of " Tales of a Grandfather " in his French History. In 
vain his doctors told him to give up work; he would 
not be dissuaded. "As for bidding me not work," 
he said to Dr. Abercrombie, " Molly might just as well 
put the kettle on the fire and say, L Now; kettle, don't 
boil;'" to which he added, "If I were to be idle, I 
should go mad!" 

By means of the profits realized by these tremendous 
efforts, Scott saw his debts in course of rapid diminu- 
tion, and he trusted that, after a few more years' work, 
he would again be a free man. But it was not to be. 
He went on turning out such works as his "Count 
Robert of Paris" with greatly-impaired skill, until he 
was prostrated by another and severer attack of palsy. 
He now felt that the plow was nearing the end of the 
furrow; his physical strength was gone; he was "not 



220 Scott's Courage and Honesty. 

quite himself in all things," and yet his eourage and 
perseverance never failed. u I have suffered terribly," 
he wrote in his Diar} T , " though rather in body than in 
mind, and I often wish I could lie down and sleep with- 
out waking. But / will fight it out if I can." 

He again recovered sufficiently to be able to write, 
" Castle Dangerous," though the cunning of the 
workman's hand had departed. And then there 
was his last tour to Italy in search of rest and health, 
during which, while at Naples, in spite of all remon- 
strances, he gave several hours every morning to the 
composition of a new novel, which, however, has not 
seen the light. 

Scott returned to Abbotsford to die. " I have seen 
much," he said on his return, " but nothing like my 
own house — give me one turn more." One of the last 
things he uttered, in one of his lucid intervals, was 
worthy of him. " I have been," he said, "perhaps the 
most voluminous author of my day, and it is a comfort 
to me to think that I have tried to unsettle no man's 
faith, to corrupt no man's principles, and that I have 
written nothing which on my death-bed I should wish 
blotted out." His last injunction to his son-in-law was: 
u Lockhart, I ma)/ have but a minute to speak to you. 
My dear, be virtuous — be religious — be a good man. 
Nothing else will give you any comfort when you 
come to lie here." 

The devoted conduct of Lockhart himself was 
worthy of his great relative. The "Life of Scott," 



Scott's Courage and Honesty.. 221 

which he afterwards wrote, occupied him several years 
and was a remarkably successful work. Yet he him- 
self derived no pecuniary advantage from it; handing 
over the profits of the whole undertaking to Sir 
Walter's creditors, in payment of debts for which he 
was in no way responsible, but influenced entirely by. a 
spirit of honor, and of regard for the memory of the 
illustrious dead. 




CHAPTER XXL 



DUTY TRUTHFULNESS. 



Upholding Sense of Duty. — Conscience and Will. — Sense of Honor. — 
Sacredness of Duty. — Freedom of the Individual. — Washington's Sense 
of Duty. — Wellington's Ideal. — Duty and Truthfulness. — Wellington and 
his Aurist. — Truth the Bond of Society. — Equivocation. — Pretentiousness. 

"I slept, and dreamt that life was Beauty, 
I woke, and found that life was Duty." 

(l) |UTY is a thing that is due, and must be paid by 
-^ every man who would avoid present discredit and 
eventual moral insolvency. It is an obligation — a debt 
— which can only be discharged by voluntary effort and 
resolute action in the affairs ot life. 

Duty embraces man's whole existence. It begins in 
the home, where there is the duty which children owe 
to their parents on the one hand, and the duty which 
parents owe to their children on the other. There are, 
in like manner, the respective duties of husbands and 
wives, of masters and servants; while outside the home 
there are the duties which men and women owe to each 
other as friends and neighbors, as employers and 
employed, as governors and governed. 

a Render, therefore," says St. Paul, "to all their dues: 
tribute to whom tribute is due; custom to whom custom; 

222 



The Abiding Sense of Duty. 223 

tear to whom fear; honor to whom honor. Owe no 
man any thing, but to love one another; for he that 
loveth another hath fulfilled the law." 

Thus duty rounds the whole of life, from our entrance 
into it until our exit from it — duty to superiors, duty 
to inferiors, and duty to equals — duty to man, and duty 
to God. Wherever there is power to use or to direct, 
there is duty. For we are but as stewards, appointed 
to employ the means entrusted to us for our own and 
for other's good. 

The abiding sense of duty is the very crown of char- 
acter. It is the upholding law of man in his highest 
attitudes. Without it, the individual totters and falls 
before the first puff of adversity or temptation; where- 
as, inspired by it, the weakest becomes strong and full 
of courage. "Duty," says Mrs. Jameson, "is the ce- 
ment which binds the whole moral edifice together; 
without which, all power, goodness, intellect, truth, 
happiness, love itself, can have no permanence] but all 
the fabric of existence crumbles away from under us, 
and leaves us at last sitting in the midst of a ruin,, 
astonished at our own desolation." 

Duty is based upon a sense of justice — justice inspired 
by love, which is the most perfect form of goodness. 
Duty is not a sentiment, but a principle pervading the 
life: and it exhibits itself in conduct and in acts, which 
are mainly determined by man's conscience and free- 
will. 

The voice of conscience speaks in duty done; and 



224 Conscience and Will. 

without its regulating and controlling influence, the 
brightest and greatest intellect may be merely as a light 
that leads astray. Conscience sets a man upon his feet, 
while his will holds him upright. Conscience is the 
moral governor of the heart — the governor of right 
action, of right thought, of right faith, of right life — and 
only through its dominating influence can the noble and 
upright character be fully developed. 

The conscience, however, may speak never so loudly, 
but without energetic will it may speak in vain. The 
will is free to choose between the right course and the 
wrong one, but the choice is nothing unless followed by 
immediate and decisive action. If the sense of duty be 
strong, and the course of action clear, the courageous 
will, upheld by the conscience, enables a man to proceed 
on his course bravely, and to accomplish his purposes in 
the face of all opposition and difficulty. And should 
failure be the issue, there will remain at least this satis- 
faction, that it has been in the cause of duty. 

" Be and continue poor, young man," said Heinzel- 
mann, " while others around you grow rich by fraud and 
disloyalty; be without place or power, while others beg 
their way upward ; bear the pain of disappointed hopes, 
while others gain the accomplishment of theirs by flat- 
tery ; forego the gracious pressure of the hand, for which 
others cringe and crawl. Wrap yourself in your own 
virtue, and seek a friend and your daily bread. If you 
have in your own cause grown gray with unbleached 
honor, bless God and die! " 



The Sense of Honor. 225 

To live really is to act energetically. Life is a battle 
to be fought valiantly. Inspired by high and honorable 
resolve, a man must stand to his post, and die there, 
if need be. Like the old Danish hero, his determination 
should be, " to dare nobly, to wilL strongly, and never to 
falter in the path of duty." The power of will, be it 
great or small, which God has given us, is a Divine gift; 
and we ought neither to let it perish for want of using, 
on the one hand, nor profane it by employing it for 
ignoble purposes, on the other. Robertson, of Brighton, 
has truly said, that man's real greatness consists not in 
seeking his own pleasure, or fame or advancement — 
<( not that every one shall save his own life, not that 
every man shall seek his own glory — but that every 
man shall do his own duty." 

What most stands in the way of the performance of 
duty, is irresolution, weakness of purpose, and indecis- 
ion. On the one side are conscience and the knowledge 
of good and evil; oi^the other are indolence, selfishness, 
love of pleasure, or passion. The weak and ill-disci- 
plined will may remain suspended for a time between 
these influences; but at length the balance inclines one 
way or the other, according as the will is called into 
action or otherwise. If it be allowed to remain passive, 
the lower influence of selfishness or passion will pre- 
vail ; and thus manhood suffers abdication, individuality 
is renounced, character is degraded, and the man 
permits himself to become the mere passive slave of his 
sense. 

15 



226 Bacredness of Duty. 

Thus, the power of exercising the will promptly, in 
obedience to the dictates of conscience, and thereby 
resisting the impulses of the lower nature, is of essential 
importance in moral discipline, and absolutely necessary 
for the developement of character in its best forms. To 
acquire the habit of well-doing, to resist evil propensi- 
ties, to fight against sensual desires, to overcome inborn 
selfishness, may require a long and perservering disci- 
pline; but when once the practice of duty is learned, 
it becomes consolidated in habit, and thenceforward is 
comparatively easy. 

The valiant good man is he who, by the resolute 
exercise of his free-will, has so disciplined himself as to 
have acquired the habit of virtue, as the bad man is he 
who by allowing his free-will to remain inactive, and 
giving the bridle to his desires and passions, has acquired 
the habit of vice, by which he becomes, at last, bound 
as by chains of iron. 

A man can only achieve strength of purpose by the 
action of his own free will. If he is to stand erect, it 
must be by his own efforts; for he can not be kept 
propped up by the help of others. He is master of 
himself and of his actions. He can avoid falsehood, 
and be truthful; he can shun sensualism and be con- 
tinent; he can turn aside from doing a cruel thing, and 
be benevolent and forgiving. All these lie within the 
sphere of individual efforts, and come within the range 
of self-discipline. And it depends upon men themselves 
whether in these respects they will be free, pure, and 



The Spirit of Duty. 221 

good, on the one hand; or enslaved, impure, and miser- 
able, on the other. 

The sense of duty is a sustaining power even to a 
courageous man. It holds him upright, and makes him 
strong. It was a noble saying of Pompey, when his 
friends tried to dissuade him from embarking for Rome 
in a storm, telling him that he did so at the great peril 
of his life: tc It is necessary for me to go," he said; " it 
is not necessary for me to live.'" What it was right 
that he should do, he would do, in the face of danger 
and in defiance of storms. 

As might be expected of the great Washington, the 
chief motive power in his life was the spirit of duty. 
It was the regal and commanding element in his charac- 
ter which gave it unity, compactness, and vigor. When 
he clearly saw his duty before him, he did it at all 
hazards, and with inflexible integrity. He did not do it 
for effect ; nor did he think of glory, or of fame and its 
rewards; but of the right thing to be done, and the 
best way of doing it. 

Yet Washington had a most modest opinion of him- 
self; and when offered the chief command of the Amer- 
ican patriot army, he hesitated to accept it until it was 
pressed upon him. When acknowledging in Congress 
the honor which had been done him in selecting him to 
so important a trust, on the execution of which the fu- 
ture of his country in a great measure depended, Wash- 
ington said: U I beg it may be remembered, lest some un- 
lucky event should happen unfavorable to my reputation, 



228 Washington s Sense of Duty. 

that I this clay declare, with the utmost sincerity, I do not 
think myself equal to the command I am honored with." 

And in his letter to his wife, communicating to her 
his appointment as commander-in-chief, he said: " I 
have used every endeavor in my power to avoid it, not 
only from my unwillingness to part with you and the 
family, but from a consciousness of its being a trust too 
great for my capacity; and that I should enjoy more 
real happiness in one month with you at home than I 
have the most distant prospect of finding abroad, if my 
stay were to be seven times seven years. But, as it has 
been a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this 
service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is design- 
ed for some good purpose. It was utterly out of my 
power to refuse the appointment, without exposing my 
character to such censures as would have reflected dis- 
honor upon myself, and given pain to my friends. This, 
I am sure, could not, and ought not, to be pleasing to 
you, and must have lessened me considerably in my own 
esteem." 

Washington pursued his upright course through life, 
first as commander-in-chief, and afterwards as president, 
never faltering in the path of duty. He had no regard 
for popularity, but held to his purpose through good 
and through evil report, often at the risk of his power 
and influence. Thus, on one occasion, when the rati- 
fication of a treaty, arranged by Mr. Jay with Great 
Britain, was in question, Washington was urged to 
reject it. But his honor, and the honor of his country, 



Washington's Ideal of Duty. 229 

was committed, and he refused to do so. A great out- 
cry was raised against the treaty, and for a time Wash- 
ington was so unpopular that he is said to have been 
actually stoned by the mob. But he, nevertheless, held 
it to be his duty to ratify the treaty ; and it was carried 
out in despite of petitions and remonstrances from all 
quarters. " While I feel," he said, in answer to the 
remonstrants, " the most lively gratitude for the many 
instances of approbation from my country, I can no 
otherwise deserve it than by obeying the dictates of my 
conscience." 

Wellington's watch-word, like Washington's, was 
duty; and no man could be more loyal to it than he 
was. " There is little or nothing," he once said, " in 
this life worth living for ; but we can all of us go straight 
forward and do our duty." None recognized more 
cheerfully than he did the duty of obedience and willing 
service; for unless men can serve faithfully, they will 
not rule others wisely. There is no motto that becomes 
the wise man better than Ich dien, " I serve;" and 
" They also serve who only stand and wait." 

When the mortification of an officer, because of his 
being appointed to a command inferior to what he con- 
sidered to be his merits, was communicated to the duke, 
he said: "In the course of my military career, I have 
gone from the command of a brigade to that of a regi- 
ment, and from the command of an army to that of a 
brigade or a division, as I was ordered, and without any 
feeling of mortification." 



230 Duty and 'Truthfulness. 

Duty is closely allied to truthfulness of character; 
and the dutiful man is, above all things, truthful in his 
words as in his actions. He says and he does the right 
thing in the right way, and at the right time. 

There is probably no saying of Lord Chesterfield that 
commends itself more strongly to the approval of man- 
ly-minded men, than that it is truth that makes the 
success of the gentleman. Clarendon, speaking of one 
of the noblest and purest gentlemen of his age, says of 
Falkland, that he " was so severe an adorer of truth, 
that he could as easily have given himself leave to steal 
as to dissemble." 

It was one of the finest things that Mrs. Hutchinson 
could say of her husband, that he was a thoroughly 
truthful and reliable man: " He never professed the 
thing he intended not, nor promised what he believed 
out of his power, nor failed in the performance of any 
thing that was in his power to fulfill." 

Wellington was a severe admirer of truth. An illus- 
tration may be given. When afflicted by deafness, he 
consulted a celebrated aurist, who, after trying all reme- 
dies in vain, determined, as a last resource, to inject into 
the ear a strong solution of caustic. It caused the most 
intense pain, but the patient bore it with his usual equa- 
nimity. The family physician accidently calling one 
day, found the duke with flushed cheeks and blood-shot 
eyes, and when he rose he staggered about like a drunk- 
en man. The doctor asked to be permitted to look at 
his ear, and then he found that a furious inflammation 



Resistance to Falsehood. 231 

was going on, which, if not immediately checked, must 
shortly reach the brain and kill him. Vigorous reme- 
dies were at once applied, and the inflammation was 
checked. But the hearing of that ear was completely 
destroyed. When the aurist heard of the danger his 
patient had run, through the violence of the remedy he 
had employed, he hastened to Apsley House to express 
his grief and mortification; but the duke merely said: 
" Do not say a word more about it — you did all for the 
best." The aurist said it would be his ruin when it 
became known that he had been the cause of so much 
suffering and danger to his grace. " But nobody need 
know any thing about it: keep your own counsel, and, 
depend upon it, I won't say a word to any one." " Then 
your grace will allow me to attend } T ou as usual, which 
will show the public that you have not withdrawn your 
confidence from me?" " No," replied the duke, kindly 
but firmly; "I can't do that, for that would be a lie." 
He would not act a falsehood any more than he would 
speak one. 

Truth is the very bond of society, without which it 
must cease to exist, and dissolve into anarchy and chaos. 
A household can not be governed by lying ; nor *can a 
nation. Sir Thomas Browne once asked, " Do the devils 
lie?" " No," was his answer; " for then even hell could 
not subsist." No considerations can justify the sacrifice 
of truth, which ought to be sovereign in all the relations 
of life. 

Of all mean vices, perhaps lying is the meanest. It is 



232 Truth the Bond of Society. 

in some cases the offspring of perversity and vice, and 
in many others of sheer moral cowardice. Yet man}^ 
persons think so lightly of it that they will order their 
servants to lie for them; nor can they feel surprised if, 
after such ignoble instruction, they find their servants 
lying for themselves. 

Sir Harry Wotton's description of an ambassador as. 
" an honest man sent to lie abroad for the benefit of his 
country," though meant as a satire, brought him into 
disfavor with James I. when it became published; for 
an adversary quoted it as a principle of the king's 
religion. That it was not Wotton 1 s real view of the duty 
of an honest man, is obvious" from the lines quoted at 
the head of this chapter, on " The Character of a Happy 
Life," in which he eulogizes the man 

"Whose armor is his honest thought, 
And simple truth his utmost skill." 

But lying assumes many forms — such as diplomacy, 
expediency, and moral reservation; and, under one guise 
or another, it is found more or less pervading all classes 
of society. Sometimes it assumes the form of equivo- 
cation or moral dodging- — twisting and so stating the 
things said as to convey a false impression — a kind of 
lying which a Frenchman once described as " walking 
round about the truth." 

There are even men of narrow minds and dishonest 
natures, who pride themselves upon their Jesuitical clev- 
erness in equivocation, in their serpent-wise shirking of 
the truth and getting out of moral back-doors, in order 



Equivocation and Pretentiousness. 233 

to hide their real opinions and evade the consequences 
of holding and openly professing them. Institutions or 
systems based upon any such expedients must necessa- 
rily prove false and hollow. "Though a lie be ever so 
well dressed,' 1 says George Herbert, "it is ever over- 
come." Downright lying, though bolder and more 
vicious, is even less contemptible than such kind of 
shuffling and equivocation. 

Untruthfulness exhibits itself in many other forms: 
in reticency on the one hand, or exaggeration on the 
other; in disguise or concealment; in pretended concur- 
rence in others' opinions; in assuming an attitude of 
conformity which is deceptive; in making promises, or 
allowing them to be implied, which are never intended 
to be performed; or even in refraining from speaking 
the truth when to do so is a duty. There are also those 
who are all things to all men, who say one thing and do 
another, like Bunyan's Mr. Facing-both-ways; only 
deceiving themselves when they think they are deceiving- 
others — and who, being essentially insincere, fail to 
evoke confidence, and invariably in the end turn out 
failures, if not impostors. 

Others are untruthful in their pretentiousness, and in 
assuming merits which they do not really possess. The 
truthful man is, on the contrary, modest, and makes no 
parade of himself and his deeds. When Pitt was in his 
last illness, the news reached England of the great deeds 
of Wellington in India. " The more I hear of his ex- 
ploits," said Pitt, " the more I admire the modesty with 



234 Dr. Hall— Dr. Arnold. 

^vhich he receives the praises he merits for them. He 
is the only man I ever knew that was not vain of what 
he had done, and yet had so much reason to be so." 

So it is said of Faraday by Professor Tyndall, that 
"pretense of all kinds, whether in life or in philosophy, 
was hateful to him." Dr. Marshall Hall was a man of 
like spirit — courageously truthful, dutiful, and manly. 
One of his most intimate friends has said of him that, 
wherever he met with untruthfulness or sinister motive, 
he would expose it, saying, " I neither will, nor can, give 
my consent to a lie." The question, " right or wrong," 
once decided in his own mind, the right was followed, 
no matter what the sacrifice or the difficulty — neither 
expediency nor inclination weighing one jot in the 
balance. 

There was no virtue that Dr. Arnold labored more 
sedulously to instill into young men than the virtue of 
truthfulness, as being the manliest of virtues, as indeed 
the very basis of all true manliness. He designated 
truthfulness as " moral transparency," and he valued it 
more highly than any other quality. When lying was 
detected, he treated it as a great moral offense; but 
when a pupil made an assertion, he accepted it with 
confidence. "If you say so, that is quite enough; of 
course I believe your word." By thus trusting and be- 
lieving them, he educated the young in truthfulness; the 
hoys at length coming to say to one another: " It's a 
shame to tell Arnold a lie — he always believes one." 



CHAPTER XXIT. 



DUTY CONSCIENCE. 



The Sphere of Duty. — An American Legislator. — Foundation of Duty.— 
Conscience. — Power of Will. — Religion. — Self-control. — The best Govern- 
ment. — Plato. — The New Testament Ideal. — Dr. Macleod. — Character. 

" He walked attended 
By a strong, aiding champion — Conscience." — Milton. 

\ 

li /TAN does not live for himself alone. He lives 
J^ for the good of others as well as of himself. 
Every one has his duties to perform — the richest as 
well as the poorest. To some life is pleasure, to others 
.suffering/ But the best do not live for self-enjoyment, 
or even for fame. Their strongest motive power is 
hopeful, useful work in every good cause. 

Hierocles says that each one of us is a centre, 
circumscribed by many concentric circles. From 
ourselves the first circle extends — comprising parents, 
wife, and children. The next concentring circle com- 
prises relations; then fellow-citizens; and lastly, the 
whole human race. 

To do our duty in this world toward God and toward 
man, consistently and steadily, requires the cultivation 
of all the faculties which God hath given us. And He 

2 35 



23(3 The Sphere of Duty. 

has given us everything. It is the higher Will that 
instructs and guides our will. It is the knowledge of 
good and evil, the knowledge of what is right and what 
is wrong, that makes us responsible to man here, and to 
God hereafter. 

The sphere of Duty is infinite. It exists in every 
station of life. We have it not in our choice to be 
rich or poor, to be happy or unhappy; but it becomes 
us to do the duty that everywhere surrounds us. 
Obedience to duty, at all costs and risks, is the very 
essence of the highest civilized life. Great deeds must 
be worked for, hoped for, died for, now as in the past. 

But how to learn to do one's duty. Can there be 
any difficulty here? First, there is the pervading, 
abiding sense of duty to God. Then follow others: 
Duty to one's family; duty to our neighbors; duty of 
masters to servants, and of servants to masters, duty to 
our fellow-creatures; duty to the state, which has also 
its^duty to perform to the citizen. 

Many of these duties are performed privately. Our 
public life may be well known, but in private there is 
that which no one sees — the inner life of the soul and 
spirit. We have it in our choice to be worthy or worth- 
less. No one can kill our soul, which can perish only 
by its own suicide. If we can only make ourselves and 
each other a little better, holier, and nobler, we have 
perhaps done the most that we could. 

Here is the manner in which an American legislator 
stood to his post: 



Foundation of Duty. 237 

An eclipse of the sun happened in New England 
about a century ago. The heavens became very dark, 
and it seemed by many that the Day of Judgment was 
at hand. The Legislature of Connecticut happened 
then to be in session, and on the darkness coming on, 
a member moved the adjournment of the House, on 
which an old Puritan legislator, Davenport of Stamford, 
rose up and said that if the last day had come, he 
desired to be found in his place and doing his duty; for 
which reasons he moved that candles should be brought, 
so that the House might proceed with its business. 
Waiting at the post of Duty was the maxim of the wise 
man, and he carried his motion. 

The foundation of Duty depends upon Liberty. Me 
must be free in order to perform their public duties, as 
well as to build up their individual character. They 
are free to think; they must also be free to act. At 
the same time liberty may be used to do evil rather 
than to do good. 

There is a stronger word than Liberty — Conscience. 
From the beginning of civilization the power of this 
word has been acknowledged. " In our own breast, 
we have a God — our conscience." 

Conscience is that peculiar faculty of the soul which 
may be called the religious instinct. It first reveals 
itself when we become aware of the strife between a 
higher and a lower nature within us — of spirit warring 
against flesh — of good striving for the mastery over 
evil. Look where you will, in the church or without 



238 Power of Will 

the church, the same struggle is always going on — 
war for life or death ; men and women wrung with pain 
because they love the good and cannot yet attain it. 

It is out of this experience that Religion is born — 
the higher law leading us up to One whom the law of 
conscience represents. "It is an introspection," says 
Canon Mosely, " on which all religion has been built. 
Man going into himself and seeing the struggle within 
him, and thence getting self-knowledge, and thence the 
knowledge of God." Under this influence man knows 
and feels what is right and wrong. He has the choice 
between good and evil. And because he is free to 
choose, he is responsible. 

Whatever men may theoretically believe, none practi- 
cally feel that their actions are necessary and inevitable. 
There is no constraint upon our volition. We know 
that we are not compelled, as by a spell, to obey any 
particular motive. " We feel," says John Stuart Mill, 
" that if we wished to prove that we have the power 
of resisting the motive, we could do so; and it would 
be humiliating to our pride, and paralyzing to our desire 
of excellence, if we thought otherwise." 

Our actions are controllable, else why do men all 
over the world enact laws ? They are enacted in order 
to be obeyed because it is the universal belief, as it 
is the universal fact that men obey them or not, very 
much as they determine. We feel each one of us 
that our habits and temptations are not our masters, 
but we of them. Even in yielding to them we know 



Religion. 23$ 

that we could resist, and that, were we desirous of 
throwing them off altogether, there could not be required 
for that purpose a stronger desire or will than we know 
ourselves to be capable of feeling. 

To enjoy spiritual freedom of the highest kind, the 
mind must have been awakened by knowledge. As the 
mind has become enlightened, and conscience shows its 
power, the responsibility of man increases. He submits 
himself to the influence of the Supreme Will, and acts 
in conformity with it — not by constraint, but cheerfully^ 
and the law which holds him is that of Love. In the 
act of belief, implying knowledge and confidence, his 
humanity unfolds. He feels that by his own free act, 
his faith in and his working in conformity to the purpose 
of a Divine Will, he is achieving good, and securing the 
highest good. 

Where there is no such acknowledgment of Divine 
law, men act in obedience to sense, to passion, to self- 
ishness. In indulging any vicious propensity, they 
know they are doing wrong. Their conscience con- 
demns them. The law of nature cries out against 
them. They know that their act has been willful and 
sinful. But their power to resist in the future has 
become weakened. Their will has lost power; and 
next time the temptation offers, the resistance will be 
less. Then the habit is formed. The curse of every 
evil deed is that, propagating still, it brings forth evil. 

But conscience is not dead. We cannot dig a grave 
for it, and tell it to lie there. We may trample it under 



240 Self -Control. 

foot, but it still lives. Every sin or crime has, at the 
moment of its perpetration, its own avenging angel. 
We can not blind our eyes to it, or stop our ears to it. 
" 'Tis conscience that makes cowards of us all." There 
comes a day of judgment, even in this world, when it 
stands up confronting us, and warning us to return to 
the life of well-doing. 

Conscience is permanent and universal. It is the 
very essence of individual character. It gives a man 
self-control — the power of resisting temptations and 
defying them. Every man is bound to develop his 
individuality, to endeavor to find the right way of life, 
and to walk in it. He has the will to do so: he has the 
power to be himself and not the echo of somebody else, 
nor the reflection of lower conditions, nor the spirit of 
current conventions. True manhood comes from self- 
control — from subjection of the lower powers to the 
higher conditions of our being. 

The only comprehensive and sustained exercise of 
self-control is to be attained through the ascendency of 
conscience — in the sense of duty performed. It is con- 
science alone which sets a man on his feet, frees him 
from the dominions of his own passions and propensities. 
It places him in relation to the best interests of his kind. 
The truest source of enjoyment is found in the paths of 
duty alone. Enjoyment will come as the unbidden 
sweetener of labor, and crown every right work. 

Without conscience a man can have no higher 
principle of action than pleasure. He does what he 
16 



Mercy and Loving Kindness* 241 

likes best, whether it be sensuality or even sensuous 
intellectual enjoyment. We are not sent into the world 
to follow our own bent — to indulge merely in self-satis- 
faction. The whole constitution of nature works 
against this idea of life. The mind ought never to be 
held in subjection to the lower parts of our nature. 
There can be no self-sacrifice, no self-denial, no self- 
control — except what may be necessary to avoid the 
consequences of human law. 

A race so constituted, with intellect and passions 
such as man possesses, and without the paramount 
influence of conscience to govern their deeds, would 
soon be consigned to utter anarchy, and terminate in 
mutual destruction. We partly see the results already, 
in the mad riot in human life which has recently 
prevailed among the Nihilists in Germany and Russia, 
and the fire and destruction of the Communists' war in 
Paris. Such a principle prevailing throughout society 
can lead to nothing else than utter demoralization — 
individual, social, and national. 

It is well for the soul to look on actions done for love, 
not for selfish objects, but for duty, mercy, and loving- 
kindness. There are many things done for love which 
are a thousand times better than those done for money. 
The former inspire the spirit of heroism and self-devo- 
tion. The latter die with the giving. Duty that is 
bought is worth little. " I consider," said Dr. Arnold, 
" beyond all wealth, honor, or even health, is the 
attachment due to noble souls: because to become one 



242 Intellectual Power. 

with the good, generous, and true, is to be in a manner 
good, generous, and true yourself.' 1 

Every man has a service to do, to himself as an 
individual, and to those who are near him. In fact,, 
life is of little value unless it be consecrated by duty* 
" Show those qualities, then," said Marcus Aurelius 
Antoninus, " which are altogether in thy power — sin- 
cerity^ gravity, endurance of labor, aversion to pleasure,, 
contentment with thy portion, and with few things r 
benevolence, frankness, and magnanimity. " 

The greatest intellectual power may exist without a 
particle of magnanimity. The latter comes from the 
highest power in man's mind — conscience, and from the 
highest faculty, reason, and capacity for faith — that by 
which man is capable of apprehending more than the 
senses supply. It is this which makes man a reasonable 
creature — more than a mere animal. Mr. Darwin has 
truly said " that the motives of conscience as connected 
with repentance and the feelings of duty, are the most 
important differences which separate man from the 
animal." 

We are invited to believe in the all-powerful potency 
of matter. We are to believe only in what we can see 
with our eyes and touch with our hands. We are to 
believe in nothing that we do not understand. But 
how very little do we absolutely know and understand! 
We see only the surfaces of things, " as in a glass 
darkly." How can matter help us to understand the 
mysteries of life? We know absolutely nothing about 



The Materialist. 243 

the causes of volition, sensation, and mental action. 
We know that they exist, but we can not understand 
them. 

When a young man declared to Dr. Parr that he 
would believe nothing he did not understand, " Then 
sir," said the doctor, " your creed would be the shortest 
of any man whom I ever knew." But Sydney Smith 
said a better thing than this. At a dinner at Holland 
House a foreigner announced himself as a materialist. 
Presently Sydney Smith observed, " A very good 
soufflet this!" To which the materialist rejoined, 
" Oui, monsieur; il est ravissant!" "By the way," 
replied Smith, with his usual knock-down application, 
" may I ask, sir, whether you happen to believe in a 
cook?" 

We must believe a thousand things that we do not 
understand. Matter and its combinations are as great 
a mystery as Life is. Look at those numberless far-off 
worlds majestically wheeling in their appointed orbits; 
or at this earth on which we live, performing its diurnal 
motion on its own axis, during its annual circle round 
the sun. What do we understand about the causes of 
such motions? What can we ever know about them 
beyond the fact that such things are? 

" The circuit of the sun in the heavens," says Pascal, 
" vast as it is, is itself only a delicate point when com- 
pared with the vaster circuit that is accomplished by 
the stars. Beyond the range of sight, this universe is 
but a spot in the ample bosom of nature. We can 



244 Conduct. 

only imagine of atoms as compared with the reality, 
which is an infinite sphere, of which the centre is every- 
where, the circumference nowhere. What is man in the 
midst of this infinite? But there is another prospect 
not less astounding; it is the Infinite beneath him. Let 
him look to the smallest of the things which come under 
his notice — a mite. It has limbs, veins, blood circulat- 
ing in them, globules in that blood, humors, and serum. 
Within the inclosure of this atom I will show you not 
merely the visible universe, but the very immensity of 
Nature. Whoever gives his mind to thoughts such as 
this will be terrified at himself — trembling where 
Nature has placed him — suspended, as it were, between 
infinity and nothingness. The Author of these wonders 
comprehends them; none but he can do so." 

Confucius taught his disciples to believe that Conduct 
is three-fourths of life. " Ponder righteousness, and 
practise virtue. Knowledge, magnanimity, and energy, 
are universally binding. Gravity, generosity of soul, 
sincerity, earnestness, and kindness, constitute perfect 
virtue.' 1 These words come to us as the far-off echo 
of the great teacher of ten thousand ages, as his 
disciples called him — the holy and prescient sage 
Confucius. 

But all these virtues come from the innate monitor 
Conscience. From this first principle all rules of 
behavior are drawn. It bids us do what we call right, 
and forbids us doing what we call wrong. At its 
fullest growth it bids us do what makes others happy, 



Plato. 245 

and forbids us doing what makes others unhappy. The 
great lesson to be learned is, that man must strengthen 
himself to perform his duty and do what is right, 
seeking his happiness and inward peace in objects that 
cannot be taken away from him. Conscience is the 
conflict by which we get the mastery over our own 
failings. It is a silent working of the inner man, by 
which he proves his peculiar power of the will and spirit 
of God. 

Plato taught without money and without price. It 
is not necessary to follow his history. Suffice it to say, 
that he devoted himself to the inculcation of truth, 
morality, and duty. He divided the four cardinal 
virtues into (i) Prudence and wisdom; (2) Courage, 
constancy, and fortitude; (3) Temperance, discretion, 
and self-control; and (4) Justice and righteousness. 
He assumed this division of virtue as the basis of his 
moral philosophy. " Let men of all ranks," he said, 
" whether they are successful or unsuccessful, whether 
they triumph or not — let them do their duty, and rest 
satisfied." What a lesson for future ages lies in these 
words ! 

The New Testament gives a glorified ideal of a 
possible human life; but hard are his labors who 
endeavors to keep that ideal uppermost in his mind. 
We feel that there is something else that we would 
like to do, much better than the thing that is incumbent 
upon us. But the duty is there, and it must be 
done, without dreaming or idling. How much of the 



2-46 Faithfulness. 

philosophy of moral health and happiness is involved 
in the injunction, " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to 
do, do it with all thy might." He that does his 
best, whatever his lot may be, is on the sure road of 
advancement. 

It is related of one, who in the depths of his despair 
cried, " It is of no use to be good, for you can not be 
good, and if you were, it would do you no good." It 
is hopeless, truthless, and faithless, thus to speak of the 
goodness of word and work. Each one of us can do a 
little good in our own sphere of life. If we can do it, 
we are bound to do it. We have no more right to 
render ourselves useless than to destroy ourselves. 

We have to be faithful in small things as well as in 
great. We are required to make as good a use of our 
one talent as of the many talents that have been 
conferred upon us. We can follow the dictates of our 
conscience, and walk, though alone, in the paths of 
duty. We can be honest, truthful, diligent, were it 
only out of respect for one's self. We have to be 
faithful even to the end. Who is not struck with 
the answer of the slave who, when asked by an 
intending purchaser, " Wilt thou be 'faithful if I buy 
thee?" " Yes," said the slave, " whether you buy me 
or not." 

In the description of a sermon preached to the work- 
ing classes by the late Dr. Macleod, in the Barony 
Church of Glasgow, it is said that he made a grand 
stand for Character. From the highest to the lowest 



Faithfulness. 2il 

that was the grand aim to be made. He said that " the 
most valuable thing that Prince Albert had left was 
Character. He knew perfectly well that many very 
poor people thought it was impossible for them to have 
a character. It was not true; he would not hear of it. 
There was not a man or woman before him, however 
poor they might be, but had it in their power, by the 
grace of God, to leave behind them the grandest thing 
on earth, Character; and their children might rise up 
after them and thank God that their mother was a pious 
woman, or their father a pious man.'" 

Character is made up of small duties faithfully per- 
formed — of self-denials, of self-sacrifices, of kindly acts 
of love and duty. The backbone of character is laid at 
home; and whether the constitutional tendencies be 
good or bad, home influences will as a rule fan them 
into activity. " He that is faithful in little is faithful in 
much; and he that is unfaithful in little is unfaithful 
also in much." Kindness begets kindness, and truth 
and trust will bear a rich harvest of truth and trust. 
There are many little trivial acts of kindness which 
teach us more about a man's character than many vague 
phrases. These are easy to acquire, and their effects will 
last much longer than this very temporary life. 

For no good thing is ever lost. Nothing dies, not 
even life, which gives up one form only to resume 
another. No good action, no good example, dies. It 
lives forever in our race. While the frame moulders 
and disappears, the deed leaves an indelible stamp, and 



248 Faithfulness* 

moulds the very thought and will of future generations. 
Time is not the measure of a noble work; the coming 
age will share our joy. A single virtuous action has 
elevated a whole village, a whole city, a whole nation. 
"The present moment," says Goethe, " is a powerful 
deity." Man's best products are his happy and sancti- 
fying thoughts, which, when once formed and put in 
practice, extend their fertilizing influence for thousands 
of years, and from generation to generation. It is from 
small seeds dropped into the ground that the finest pro- 
ductions grow; and it is from the inborn dictates of 
Conscience and the inspired principle of Duty that the 
finest growths of character have arisen. 




CHAPTER XXIII. 



DUTY IN ACTION, 



Duty at Home. — Direction of the Will. — Characterless Men. — Lock on the 
Will. — School Teaching and Morality. — Human Liberty. — Noble Work. 
— Difficulties. — Laziness. — Resolution and Courage. — Intellectual Ability. 
— Lady Verney on Literature. — Discipline of Home. 

' ' Do noble things, not dream them, all day long. 
And so make life, death, and that vast forever, one grand, sweet song." 

— Charles Kingsley. 

vlTE who has well considered his duty will at once 

carry his convictions into action. Our acts 

are the only things that are in our power. They not 

only form the sum of our habits, but of our character. 

At the same time the course of duty is not always 
the easy course. It has many oppositions and difficul- 
ties to surmount. We may have the sagacity to see> 
but not the strength of purpose to do. To the irresolute 
there is many a lion in the way. He thinks and moral- 
izes and dreams, but does nothing. " There is little to 
see,' 1 said a hard worker, "and little to do; it is only 
to do it." 

There must not only be a conquest over likings and 
dislikings; but, what is harder to attain, a triumph over 
adverse repute. The man whose first question, after a 

249 



250 Duty at Home. 

right course of action has presented itself, is " What 
will people say?' 1 is not the man to do anything at all. 
But if he asks, " is it my duty?" he can then proceed 
in his moral panoply, and be ready to incur men's 
censure, and even to brave their ridicule. iC Let us 
have faith in fine actions," says M. de la Cretelle, " and 
let us reserve doubt and incredulity for bad. It is even 
better to be deceived than to distrust." 

Duty is first learned at home. The child comes into 
the world helpless and dependent on others for its health, 
nurture, and moral and physical development. The 
child at length imbibes ideas; under proper influences 
he learns to obey, to control himself, to be kind to 
others, to be dutiful and happy. He has a will of his 
own; but whether it be well or ill directed depends 
very much upon parental influences. 

The habit of willing is called purpose; and, from 
what has been said, the importance of forming a right 
purpose early in life will be obvious. ''Character," 
says Novals, "is a completely-fashioned will ; and the 
will, when once fashioned, may be steady and constant 
for life. When the true man, bent on good, holds by 
his purpose, he places but small value on the rewards 
or praises of the world; his own approving conscience, 
and the " well done " which awaits him, is his best 
reward. 

Will, considered without regard to direction, is 
simple constancy, firmness, perseverance. But it will 
be obvious that, unless the direction of the character 



Direction of the Will 251 

be right, the strong will ma}- be merely a power for 
mischief. In great tyrants it is a demon; with power 
to wield, it knows no bounds nor restraint. It holds 
millions subject to it; inflames their passions, excites 
them to military fury, and is never satisfied but in 
conquering, destroying, and tyrannizing. The bound- 
less Will produces an Alexander or a Napoleon. 
Alexander cried because there were no more kingdoms 
to conquer; and Bonaparte, after overrunning Europe, 
spent his force amid the snows of Russia. " Conquest 
has made me,' 1 he said, "and conquest must maintain 
me. 1 ' But he was a man of no moral principle, and 
Europe cast him aside when his work of destruction 
was done. 

The strong Will, allied to right motives, is as full 
of blessings as the other is of mischief. The man thus 
influenced moves and inflames the minds and consciences 
of others. He bends them in his views of duty, carries 
them with him in his endeavors to secure worthy 
objects, and directs opinion to the suppression of wrong 
and the establishment of right. The man of strong 
will stamps power upon his actions. His energetic 
perseverance becomes habitual. He gives a tone to 
the company in which he is, to the society in which he 
lives, and even to the nation in which he is born. He 
is a joy to the timid, and a perpetual reproach to the 
sluggard. He sets the former on their feet by giving 
them hope. He may even inspire the latter to good 
deeds by the influence of his example. 



252 Characterless Men. 

Besides the men of strong bad wills and strong good 
wills, there is a far larger number who have very weak 
wills, or no wills at all. They are characterless. 
They have no strong will for vice, yet they have none 
for virtue. They are the passive recipients of im- 
pressions, which, however, take no hold of them. 
They seem neither to go forward nor backward. As 
the wind blows, so their vane turns round; and when 
the wind blows from another quarter, it turns round 
again. Any instrument can write on such spirits; any 
will can govern theirs. They cherish no truth strongly, 
and do not know what earnestness is. Such persons 
constitute the mass of society everywhere — the care- 
less, the passive, the submissive, the feeble, and the 
indifferent. 

It is, therefore, of the utmost importance that at- 
tention should be directed to the improvement and 
strengthening of the Will; for without this there can 
neither be indepencence, nor firmness, nor individuality 
of character. Without k we cannot give truth its 
proper force, nor morals their proper direction, nor 
save ourselves from being machines in the hands of 
worthless and designing men. Intellectual cultivation 
will not give decision of character. Philosophers 
discuss; decisive men act. u Not to resolve," says 
Bacon, " is to resolve " — that is, to do nothing., 

"The right time," says Locke, "to educate the 
Will aright is in youth. There is a certain season 
when our minds may be enlarged, when a vast stock 



Shaftesbury and Locke- 253 

of useful truths may be acquired; when our passions 
will readily submit to the government of reason: when 
right principles may be so fixed in us as to influence 
every important action in our future lives. But the 
season for this extends neither to the whole nor to any 
considerable length of our continuance upon earth. It 
is limited to but a few years of our term; and if 
throughout these we neglect it, error or ignorance is, 
according to the ordinary course of things, entailed 
upon us. Our Will becomes our law; and our lusts 
gain a strength which we afterward vainly oppose." 

The first Lord Shaftesbury, in a conversation with 
Locke, broached a theory of character and conduct 
which threw a light upon his own. He said that wis- 
dom lay in the heart and not in the head, and that it 
was not the want of knowledge but the perverseness 
of will that filled men's actions with folly, and their 
lives with disorder. Mere knowledge does not give 
vigor to character. A man may reason too much. He 
may weigh the thousand probabilities on either side, 
and come to no action, no decision. Knowledge is thus 
a check upon action. The Will must act in the light 
of the spirit and the understanding, and the soul then 
springs into full light and action. 

Indeed the learning of letters and words and sentences 
is not of the importance that some think it to be. 
Learning has nothing to do with goodness or happiness. 
It may destroy humilit} T and give place to pride. The 
chief movers of men have been little addicted to 



254 School Teaching. 

literature. Literary men have often attained to great- 
ness of thought which influences men in all ages; but 
they rarely attain to moral greatness of action, 

Men cannot be raised in masses, as the mountains 
were in the early geological states of the world. They 
must be dealt with as units; for it is only by the eleva- 
tion of individuals that the elevation of the masses can 
be effectually secured. Teachers and preachers may 
influence them from without, but the main action comes 
from within. Individual men must exert themselves 
and help themselves, otherwise they never can be 
effectually helped b} T others. " As habits belonging to 
the body," says Dr. Butler, " are produced by external 
acts, so habits of the mind are produced by the 
exertion of inward practical purposes — by carrying 
them into action or acting upon them — the principles 
of obedience, of veracity, justice, and charity." 

There is little or no connection between school teach- 
ing and morality. Mere cultivation of the intellect has 
hardly any influence upon conduct. Creeds posted 
upon the memory will not eradicate vicious propensities. 
The intellect is merely an instrument, which is moved 
and worked by forces behind it — by emotions, by self- 
restraint, by self-control, by imagination, by enthusiasm, 
by everything that gives force and energy to character. 
The most of these principles are implanted at home, 
and not at school. Where the home is miserable, 
worthless, and unprincipled — a place rather to be 
avoided than entered — then school is the only place for 



Human Liberty. 2bo 

learning ooeclience and discipline. At the same time, 
home is the true soil where virtue grows. The events 
of the household are more near and affecting to us than 
those of the school and the academy, It is in the study 
of the home that the true character and hopes of the 
times are to be consulted. 

To train up their households is the business of the 
old ; to obey their parents and to grow in wisdom is the 
business of the young. Education is a work of author- 
ity and respect. Christianity, according to Guizot, is 
the greatest school of respect that the world has ever 
seen. Religious instruction alone imparts the spirit of 
self-sacrifice, great virtues, and lofty thoughts. It 
penetrates to the conscience, and makes life bearable 
without a murmur against the mystery of human 
conditions. 

" The great end of training, 11 says a great writer, " is 
liberty; and the sooner you can get a child to be a law 
unto himself, the sooner you will make a man of him." 
"I will respect human liberty, 11 said Monseigneur 
Dupanloup, u in the smallest child even more scrupu- 
lously than in a grown man; for the latter can defend 
it against me, while the child can not. Never will I 
insult the child so far as to regard him as material to 
be cast into a mould, to emerge with the stamp given 
by my will." 

Paternal authority and family independence is a sacred 
domain; and if momentarily obscured in troublous times, 
Christian sentiment protests and resists until it regains. 



256 JVoble Work. 

its authority. But liberty is not all that should be 
struggled for; obedience, self-restraint, and self-govern- 
ment, are the conditions to be chiefly aimed at. The 
latter is the principle end of education. It is not 
imparted by* teaching, but by example. The first 
instruction for youth, says Bonald, consists in habits, 
not in reasonings, in examples rather than in direct 
lessons. Example preaches better than precept, and 
that too because it is so much more difficult. At the 
same time, the best influences grow slowly, and in a 
gradual correspondence with human needs. 

Noble work is the true educator. Idleness is a 
thorough demoralizer of body, soul, and conscience. 
Nine tenths of the vices and miseries of the world 
proceed from idleness. Without work there can be no 
active progress in human welfare. Mo more insuffera- 
ble misery can be conceived than that which must 
follow incommunicable privileges. Imagine an idle 
man condemned to perpetual youth, while all around 
him decay and die. How sincerely would he call upon 
death for deliverance! " The weakest living creatures," 
says Carlyle, " by concentrating his powers on a single 
object, can accomplish something; whereas the strong- 
est, by dispersing his over many, may fail to accomplish 
any thing.' ' 

Have we difficulties to contend with? Then work 
through them. No exorcism charms like labor. Idle- 
ness of mind and body resembles rust. It wears more 
than work. " I would rather work out than rust out," 



Difficulties. 257 

said a noble worker. Schiller said that he found the 
greatest happiness in life to consist in the permormance 
of some mechanical duty. He was also of opinion that 
" the sense of beauty never furthered the performance 
of a single duty." The highest order of being is that 
w r hich loses sight in resolution, and feeling in work. 

The greatest of difficulties often lie where we are not 
looking for them. When painful events occur, they 
are, perhaps, sent only to try and prove us. If we stand 
firm in our hour of trial, the firmness gives serenity to 
the mind, which always feels satisfaction in acting con- 
formably to duty. " The battles of the wilderness, 11 
said Norman Macleod, " are the sore battles of every- 
day life. Their giants are our giants, their sorrows 
our sorrows, their defeats and victories ours also. As 
they had honors, defeats, and victories, so have we.' 1 

The school of difficult) 7 is the best school of moral 
discipline. When difficulties have to be encountered, 
they must be met with courage and cheerfulness. Did 
not Aristotle say that happiness is not so much in our 
objects as in our energies? Grappling with difficulties 
is the surest way of overcoming them. The determi- 
nation to realize an object is the moral conviction that 
we can and will accomplish it. Our wits are sharpened 
by our necessity, and the individual man stands forth to 
meet and overcome the difficulties which stand in his way. 

The memoirs of men who have thrown their oppor- 
tunities away would constitute a painful but a mem- 
orable volume for the world's instruction. " No strong 

17 



258 Laziness. 

man, in good health," says Ebenezer Elliot, " can be 
neglected, if he be true to himself. For the benefit of 
the young, I wish we had a correct account of the 
number of persons who fail of success, in a thousand 
who resolutely strive to do well. I do not think it 
exceeds one per cent." Men grudge success, but it is 
only the last term of what looked like a series of fail- 
ures. They failed at first, then again and again, but 
at last their difficulties vanished, and success was 
achieved. 

The desire to possess, without being burdened with 
the trouble of acquiring, is a great sign of weakness 
and laziness. Everything that is worth enjoying or 
possessing can only be got by the pleasure of working. 
This is the great secret of practical strength. " One 
may very distinctly prefer industry to indolence, the 
healthful exercise of all one's faculties to allowing them 
to rest unused in drowsy torpor. In the long run we 
shall probably find that the exercise of the faculties has 
of itself been the source of a more genuine happiness 
than has followed the actual attainment of what the 
exercise was directed to procure." 

We must work, trusting that some of the good seed 
we throw into the ground will take root and spring up 
into deeds of well-doing. What man begins for him- 
self God finishes for others. Indeed we can finish noth- 
ing. Others begin where we leave off, and carry on 
our work to a stage nearer perfection. We have to 
bequeath to those who come after us a noble design, 



Resolution and Courage. 259 

worthy of imitation. Well done, well doing, and well 
to do, are inseparable conditions that reach through all 
the ages of eternity. 

Very few people can realize the idea that they are 
of no use in the world. The fact of their existence 
implies the necessity for their existence. The world is 
before them. They have their choice of good and evil 
— of usefulness and idleness. What have they done 
with their time and means? Have they shown the 
world that their existence has been of any use whatever? 
Have they made any one the better because of their 
life? Has their career been a mere matter of idleness 
and selfishness, of laziness and indifference? Have they 
been seeking pleasure? Pleasure flies before idleness. 
Happiness is out of the reach of laziness. Pleasure and 
happiness are the fruits of work and labor, never of care- 
lessness and indifference. 

A resolute will is needed not only for the perform- 
ance of difficult duties, but in order to go promptly, 
energetically, and with self-possession, through the 
thousand difficult things which come in almost every- 
body's way. Thus courage is as necessary as integrity 
in the performance of duty. The force may seem small 
which is needed to carry one cheerfully through any of 
these things singly, but to encounter one by one the 
crowding aggregate, and never to be taken by surprise, 
or thrown out of temper, is one of the last attainments 
of the human spirit. 

Every generation has to bear its own burden, to 



260 Courage. 

weather its peculiar perils, to pass through its manifold 
trials. We are daily exposed to temptations, whether 
it be of idleness, self-indulgence, or vice. The feeling 
of duty and the power of courage must resist these 
things at whatever sacrifice of worldly interest. When 
virtue has thus become a daily habit, we become pos- 
sessed of an individual character, prepared for fulfilling, 
in a great measure, the ends for which we were created. 

How much is lost to the world for want of a little 
courage! We have the willingness to do, but we fail 
to do it. The state of the world is such, and so much 
depends on action that everything seems to say loudly 
to every man, " Do something; do it, do it." The poor 
country parson, fighting against evil in his parish, 
against wrong-doing, injustice, and iniquity, has nobler 
ideas of duty than Alexander the Great ever had. 
Some men are mere apologies for workers, even when 
they pretend to be up and at it. They stand shivering 
on the brink; and have not the courage to plunge in. 
Every day sends to the grave a number of obscure 
men, who, if they had had the courage to begin, would, 
in all probability, have gone great lengths in the career 
of well-doing. 

One of the greatest dangers that at present beset the 
youth of England is laziness. What is called " culture " 
amounts to little. It may be associated with the mean- 
est moral character, abject servility to those in high 
places, and arrogance to the poor and lowly. The fast 
idle youth believes nothing, venerates nothing, hopes 



Intellectual. Ability. 261 

nothing; no, not even the final triumph of good in 
human hearts. There are many Mr. Tootses in the 
world, saying "'It's all the same," "It's of no conse- 
quence." It is not all the same, nor will it be all the 
same a hundred years hence. The life of each man tells 
upon the whole life of society. Each man has his special 
duty to perform, his special work to do. If he does it 
not, he himself suffers, and others suffer through him. 
His idleness infects others, and propagates a bad example. 
A useless life is only an early death. 

Oh, the vain pride of mere intellectual ability! how 
worthless, how contemptible, when contrasted with the 
riches of the heart ! What is the understanding of the 
hard dry capacity of the brain and body? A mere 
dead skeleton of opinions, a few dry bones tied up 
together, if there be not a soul to add moisture and life, 
substance and reality, truth and joy. Every one will 
remember the modest saying of Newton — perhaps the 
greatest man who ever lived — the discoverer of the 
method of Fluxions, the theory of universal gravitation, 
and the decomposition of light — that he felt himself but 
as a child playing by the sea-shore, while the immense 
ocean of truth lay all unexplored before him! Have 
we any philosophers who will make such a confession 
now? 

The widest field of duty lies outside the line of 
literature and books. Men are social beings more than 
intellectual creatures. The best part of human cultiva- 
tion is derived from social contact; hence courtesy, 



262 Discipline of Home* 

self-respect, mutual toleration, and self-sacrifice for the 
good of others. Experience of men is wider than 
literature. Life is a book which lasts one's lifetime, 
but it requires wisdom to understand its difficult pages. 

" In our days," says Lady Verney, "there is an 
indissoluble connection between the ideas of cultivation 
and reading and writing. It is now only the ignorant 
and stupid who can not do both. But fifty years ago 
books, except in the highest education, were the excep- 
tion, and very clever men and women thought out their 
own thoughts, with very little assistance from anything 
beyond the Testament. Even among the upper classes 
reading was not very common among women. ' My 
grandmother could hardly spell when she wrote, and 
she read nothing but her livre cPheuresJ said a French- 
man who was well able to judge, ' but she was far more 
worthy and wise than women are now.'' " 

In the old times boys had duty placed before them as 
an incentive. To fail was to disgrace one's self, and to 
succeed was merely to do one's duty. " As for the 
dream," said Hugh Miller, " that there is to be some 
extraordinary elevation of the general platform of the 
human race achieved by means of education, it is simply 
the hallucination of the age — the world's present 
alchemical expedient for converting farthings into 
guineas, sheerly by dint of scouring." 

After all, the best school of discipline is home. 
Family life is God's own method of training the young. 
And homes are very much as women make them. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

HONESTY TRUTH. 

Lying. — Little Lying. — Regulus the Roman. — Honesty in Business. — 
Depreciation of Manufactures. — The Chinese. — Bad Work Lying. — 
Socrates on Perfection of Work. — America on Money-making. — America 
without Apprentices. — Badness of Trade. — Commercial Gambling. — 
Repudiation of Pennsylvania. — Illinois Remains Honest. — Honesty of a 
German Peasant. 

"The honest man, though e'er so poor, 
Is king o' men for a' that." — Burns. 

(iTONESTY and truthfulness go well together. 
-*"*- Honesty is truth, and truth is honesty. Truth 
alone may not constitute a great man, but it is the most 
important element of a great character. It gives 
security to those who employ him, and confidence to 
those who serve under him. Truth is the essence of 
principle, integrity, and independence. It is the primary 
need of every man. Absolute veracity is more needed 
now than at any former period in our history. 

Lying, common though it be, is denounced even by 
the liar himself. He protests that he is speaking the 
truth, for he knows that truth is universally respected, 
while lying is universally condemned. Lying is not 
only dishonest, but cowardly. u Dare to be true," said 
George Herbert; " nothing can ever need a lie." The 

263 



264: Lying. 

most mischievous liars are those who keep on the verge 
of truth. They have not the courage to speak out the 
fact, but go round about it, and tell what is really 
untrue. A lie which is half the truth is the worst of 
lies. 

There is a duplicity of life which is quite as bad as 
verbal falsehood. Actions have as plain a voice as 
words. The mean man is false to his profession. He 
evades the truth that he professes to believe. He plays 
at double dealing. He wants sincerity and veracity. 
The sincere man speaks as he thinks, believes as he 
pretends to believe, acts as he professes to act- and per- 
forms as he promises. 

" Other forms of practical contradiction are common," 
says Mr. Spurgeon; " some are intolerantly liberal; 
others are ferocious advocates for peace, or intemperate 
on intemperance. We have known pleaders for gener- 
osity who were themselves miserably stingy. We 
have heard of persons who have been wonderful sticklers 
for 'the truth' — meaning thereby a certain form of 
doctrine — and yet they have not regarded the truth in 
matters of buying and selling, or with regard to the 
reputation of their neighbors, or the incidents of domes- 
tic life." 

Lying is one of the most common and conventional 
of vices. It prevails in what is called " Society." Not 
at home is the fashionable mode of reply to a visitor. 
Lying is supposed to be so necessary to cany on human 
affairs that it is tacitly agreed to. One lie may be 



Little Lying. 265 

considered harmless, another slight, another unintended. 
Little lies are common. However tolerated, lying is 
more or less loathsome to every pure-minded man or 
woman. "Lies," says Ruskin, "may be light and 
accidental, but they are an ugly soot from the smoke 
of the pit, and it is better that our hearts should be 
swept clean of them, without our care as to which is 
largest or blackest." 

" Lying abroad for the benefit of one's country " 
used to be the maxim of the diplomatist. Yet a man 
should care more for his word than for his life. When 
Regulus was sent by the Carthaginians, whose prisoner 
he was, to Rome, with a x convoy of ambassadors to sue 
for peace, it was under the condition that he should 
return to his prison if peace were not effected. He took 
the oath, and swore that he would come back. 

When he appeared /at Rome he urged the senators 
to persevere in the war, and not to agree to the exchange 
of prisoners. That involved his return to captivity at 
Carthage. The senators, and even the chief priest, 
held that as his oath had been wrested from him by 
force, he was not bound to go. " Have you resolved 
to dishonor me? 11 asked Regulus. "I am not ignorant 
that death and tortures are preparing for me ; but what 
are these to the shame of an infamous action, or the 
wounds of a guilty mind? Slave as I am to Carthage, I 
have still the spirit of a Roman. I have sworn to return. 
It is my duty to go. Let the gods take care of the rest." 
Regulus returned to Carthage, and died under torture. 



2Q6 Honesty in Business. 

Truth and honesty show themselves in various ways. 
They characterize the man of just dealing, the faithful 
men of business, the men who will not deceive you to 
their own advantage. Honesty is the plainest and 
humblest manifestation of the principle of truth. Full 
measures, just weights, true samples, full service, strict 
fulfilment of engagements, are all indispensable to men 
of character. 

Take a common case. Sam Foote had reason to 
complain of the shortness of the beer served to him at 
dinner. He called the landlord, and said to him, 
" Pray, sir, how many butts of beer do you draw in a 
month?" "Ten, sir," replied the publican. " And 
would you like to draw eleven if yqu could?" " Cer- 
tainly, sir." u Then I will tell you how," said Foote; 
' ' fill your measure ! ' ' 

But the case goes farther than this. We complain 
of short weights and adulteration of goods. We buy 
one thing and get another. But goods must sell; if 
with a profit, so much the better. If the dealer is found 
out, the customer goes elsewhere. M. Le Play, when 
he visited England many years ago, observed with great 
pleasure the commercial probity of English manu- 
facturers. " They display," he said, " a scrupulous 
exactitude in the quantity and qualit} T of their foreign 
consignments." 

Could he say the same now? Have we not heard 
in public courts of the depreciation of our manufactures 
— of cotton loaded with china clay, starch, magnesium, 



Depreciation of Manufactures. 267 

and zinc? We have seen the loading, and therefore 
know what it is. The cotton becomes mildewed, dis- 
colored, and therefore unsalable. The mildew is a 
fungoid which, when developed by moisture, lives and 
grows upon the starch. China was one of the many 
marts for England-made cotton. But when the mildew 
appeared, the trade vanished 

There is a Chinese proverb to the effect that '• the 
conjuror does not deceive the man who beats the gong 
for him." The Chinaman is as great a deceiver as we 
are. He puts iron filings into his tea, and water into 
his silk. He is therefore quite awake to the deceptions 
of others. " The consequence is," says the British 
Consul at Cheefoo, " that our textiles have got a bad 
name, and their place is being supplied by American 
manufacturers. American drills, though forty per cent 
dearer, are driving English drills out of the market." 
We are no longer trusted. The English brand used to 
be a guarantee of honesty. It is so no longer. 

All bad work is lying. It is thoroughly dishonest. 
You pay for having a work done well; it is done bad- 
ly and dishonestly. It may be varnished over with a 
fair show of sufficiency, but the sin is not discovered 
until it is too late. So long as these things continue, it 
is in vain to talk of the dignity of labor, or of the social 
value of the so-called working man. There can be no 
dignity of labor where there is no truthfulness of work. 
u Dignity does not consist in hollowness and in light- 
uandedness, but in substantiality and in strength. If 



2$8 Bad Work Lying. 

there be flimsiness and superficiality of all kinds appa- 
rent in the work of the present day more than in the 
work of our forefathers, whence comes it ? From eager- 
ness and competition, and the haste to be rich.'' 

Socrates explained how useful and excellent a thing 
it was that a man should resolve on perfection in his 
own line, so that, if he be a carpenter, he will be the 
best possible carpenter; or if a statesman, that he will 
be the best possible statesman. It is by such means 
that true success is achieved. Such a carpenter, Socra- 
tes said, would win the wreath of carpentering, though 
it was only of shavings. 

Strange to say, the Americans are beginning to think 
that the badness of work, and the unwillingness to do 
good work, is, to a certain extent, the outcome of the 
common school system. Everybody is so well educated 
that he is above doing manual labor. There are no 
American apprentices, and no American servants. We 
do not speak without authority. A writer in Scribner^s 
Monthly says " that the Americans make a god of their 
common school system. It is treason to speak a word 
against it. A man is regarded as a foe to education 
who expresses any doubt of the value of it. But we 
may as well open our eyes to the fact that in preparing 
men for the work of life, especially for that work 
depending on manual skill, it is a hindrance and a failure. 
It is a mere smatter, veneering, and cram." 

The writer of the article says that the old system of 
apprenticeship has grown almost entirely into disuse. 



America Without Apprentices. 269 

The boys are at school and cannot be apprenticed to a 
trade. Hence most mechanical work is done by 
foreigners. The lad who has made a successful begin- 
ning of the cultivation of his intellect does not like the 
idea of getting a living by the skillful use of his hands 
in the common employment of life. He has no taste 
for bodily labor. He gets some light employment, or 
tries to live upon his wits. 

" Under a spreading chestnut tree 
The village smithy stands. ' ; 

So said Longfellow. The village smithy stands there 
no longer. When General Armstrong, of the colored 
college of Hampton, went to the North in search of 
blacksmiths, he found no Americans to engage. Every 
blacksmith was an Irishman. And in the next genera- 
tion of Irishmen every boy will be so well educated 
that he will not put his hands to any bodily labor. A 
New York clergyman possessing a large family (to 
correct this spreading influence) recently declared from 
his pulpit that he intended that every lad of his family 
should learn some mechanical employment, by which, 
on an emergency, he might get a living Rich and poor 
should alike be taught to work, skilfully if possible; for 
it is quite as likely that the rich will become poor as 
that some of the poor will become rich; and that is a 
poor education which fails to prepare a man to take 
care of himself and his dependants throughout life. 

We have lately been complaining of the badness of 
trade, but has not much of it happened through our 



270 Badness of Trade. 

own misdoing? In the arithmetic of the counting- 
house two and two do not always make four. How 
many tricks are resorted to — in which honesty forms 
no part — for making money faster than others ! Instead 
of working patiently and well for a modest living, many 
desire to get rich all at once. The spirit of the age is 
not that of a trader, but of a gambler. The pace is too 
fast to allow of any one stopping to inquire as to those 
who have fallen out by the way. They press on; the 
race for wealth is for the swift. Their faith is in money. 
It needs no prophet to point out the connection of our 
distress with the sin of commercial gambling and fraud, 
and of social extravagance and vanity, of widespread 
desolation and misery. 

" My son, 1 ' said a father, u ye 're gawn out into 
t'warld; ye may be wranged; but if it comes to that, 
chet rather than be dieted." Another said, " Make 
money, honestly, if you can; but if not, make it." A 
third said, "Honesty is better than dishonesty; IVe 
tried both." Of course we quote these phrases as being 
at utter variance with truth and honesty. But it is to 
be doubted whether higher principles of conduct prevail 
in many of the commercial classes of life. A young 
man begins business. He goes on slowly yet safely. 
His gains may be small, but they are justly come by. 
"A faithful man shall abound with blessings; but he 
that maketh haste to be rich shall not be innocent: he 
hath an evil eye, and considereth not that poverty may 
come upon him." 



Commercial Gambling. 271 

In large commercial towns young men are amazed 
at the splendor of the leaders of trade. They are sup- 
posed to be enormously rich. Every door opens to 
them. They command the highest places in society. 
They give balls, parties, and dinners. Their houses 
are full of pictures by the greatest artists. Their cellars 
are full of wine of the choicest vintage. Their conver- 
sation is not great; it is mostly about wine, horses, or 
prices. They seem to sail upon the golden sea of a great 
accumulated fortune. 

Young business men are often carried away by such 
examples. If they have not firmness and courage, they 
are apt to follow in their x footsteps. The first specula- 
tion may be a gain. The gain may be followed by 
another, and they are carried off their feet by the lust 
for wealth. They become dishonest and unscrupulous. 
Their bills are all over the discount market. To keep 
up their credit they spend more money upon pictures, 
and even upon charities. Formerly greedy and unjust 
men seized the goods of others by violence ; to-day they 
obtain them by fraudulent bankruptcies. Formerly 
every attempt was open; to-day everything is secret, 
until at length the last event comes, and everything is 
exposed. The man fails; the bills are worthless; the 
pictures are sold; and the recreant flies to avoid the 
curses of his creditors. 

Nations and states are dishonest as well as individuals. 
Their condition is to be measured by the state of their 
three per cents. Spain and Greece and Turkey are 



212 Repudiation. 

dishonored in the commercial world. Spain was killed 
by her riches. The gold which came pouring into 
Spain from her vanquished colonies in South America 
depraved the people, and rendered them indolent and 
lazy. Nowadays a Spaniard will blush to work; he 
"will not blush to beg. Greece has repudiated her debts 
for many years. Like Turkey, she has nothing to pay. 
All the works of industry in those countries are done by 
foreigners. 

Much better things might have been hoped from 
Penns}'lvania and the other American States which 
repudiated their debts many years ago. These were 
rich States, and the money borrowed from abroad 
made them richer, by opening up roads, and construct- 
ing canals for the benefit of the people. The Rev. 
Sydney Smith — who lent his money, " the savings from 
a life's income made with difficulty and privation " — let 
the world know of his loss. He addressed a remon- 
strance to the House of Congress at Washington, which 
he afterwards published. " The Americans," he said, 
" who boast to have improved the institutions of the 
Old World have at least equalled its crimes. A great 
nation, after trampling under foot all earthly tyranny, 
has been guilty of a fraud as enormous as ever dis- 
graced the worst king of the most degraded nation of 
Europe." 

The State of Illinois acted nobly, though it was poor. 
It had borrowed money, like Pennsylvania, for the 
purpose of carrying out internal improvements. When 



Honesty of Illinois. 273 

the inhabitants of rich Pennsylvania set the example of 
repudiating their debts, many of the poorer States 
wished to follow in their footsteps. As every house- 
holder had a vote, it was easy, if they were dishonest, 
to repudiate their debts. A convention met at Spring 
field, the capital of the State, and the repudia- 
tion ordinance was offered to the meeting. It was 
about to be adopted, when it was stopped by an 
honest man. Stephen A. Douglas (let his honorable 
name be mentioned!) was lying sick at his hotel, when 
he desired to be taken to the convention. He was 
carried on a mattress, for he was too ill to walk. Lv- 
ing on his back he wrote the following resolution, 
which he offered as a substitute for the repudiation 
ordinance: — 

u Resolved, that Illinois will be honest, although she 
never pays a cent." 

The resolution touched the honest sentiment of every 
member of the convention. It was adopted with 
enthusiasm. It dealt a death-blow to the system of 
repudiation. The canal bonds immediately rose. 
Capital and emigration flowed into the State; and 
Illinois is now one of the most prosperous States in 
America. She has more miles of railway than any of 
the other States. Her broad prairies are one great 
grain-field, and are dotted about with hundreds of 
thousands of peaceful, happy homes. This is what 
honesty does. 

The truth is, we have become too selfish. We think 
18 



274 Selfish People* 

of ourselves far more than of others. The more devoted 
to pleasure the less we think of our fellow-creatures. 
Selfish people are impervious to the needs of others. 
They exist in a sort of mailed armor, and no weapons r 
either of misery or want, can assail them. Their senses 
are only open to those who can minister to their 
gratifications. " There are men," says St. Crysostom, 
" who seem to have come into the world only for 
pleasure, and that they might fatten this perishable 
body. ... At sight of their luxurious table the 
angels retire — God is offended — the demons rejoice — 
virtuous men are shocked — and even the domestics 
scorn and laugh. . . . The just men who have 
gone before left sumptuous feasts to tyrants, and to 
men enriched by crime, who were the scourges of the 
world." 

We no longer know how to live upon little. A man 
must have luxury about him. And yet a man's life 
does not consist in the abundance of things he possesseth; 
he must live honestly, though poor. Retrenchment of 
the useless, the want even of the relatively necessary, is 
the high-road to Christian self-denial, as well as to 
antique strength of character. That of which our age 
stands most in need is a man able to gratify every just 
desire, and yet to be contented with little. " A great 
heart in a little house," says Lacordaire, " is of all things 
here below that which has ever touched me most. 
Happy the man who soweth the good and the true. 
The harvest will not fail him!" 



Honesty of a German Peasant 215 

Here is a fine specimen of honesty and truthfulness 
on the part of the poor German peasant. Bernardin 
de Saint-Pierre has told the story in his " Etudes de la 
Nature." He was serving as an engineer under the 
Count de Saint-Germain during his campaign in Hesse, 
in 1760. For the first time he became familiar with 
the horrors of war. Day by day he passed through 
sacked villages and devastated fields and farm-yards. 
Men, women, and children were flying from their 
cottages in tears. Armed men were everywhere 
destroying the fruits of their labor, regarding it as a 
part of their glory. But in the midst of so many 
acts of cruelty Saint-Pierre was consoled by a sub- 
lime trait of character displayed by a poor man whose 
cottage and farm* lay in the way of the advancing 

army. 

A captain of dragoons was ordered out with his 
troop to forage for provisions. They reached a poor 
cabin and knocked at the door. An old man with a 
white beard appeared. " Take me to a field, 11 said 
the officer, " where I can obtain forage for my troops." 
" Immediately, sir," replied the' old man. He put him- 
self at their head, and ascended the valley. After 
about half an hour's march a fine field of barley 
appeared. " This will do admirably," said the officer. 
"No," said the old man; "wait a little, and all will 
be right." They went on again, until they reached 
another -field of barley. The troops dismounted, 
mowed down the grain, and trussing it up in bundles, 



276 



Honesty of a German Peasant 



put them on their horses. " Friend," said the officer, 
" how is it that you have brought us so far. The 
first field of barley that we saw was quite as good 
as this." " That is quite true," said the peasant, " but 
it was not mine!" 




CHAPTER XXV. 

TEMPER. 

Cheerfulness of Disposition. — Jeremy Taylor. — Cheerfulness a Tonic. — A 
Beam in the Eye. — Dr. Marshall Hall, Luther, Lord Palmerston.— Great 
Men Cheerful.— Fielding, Johnson, Scott. — Cheerfulness of Men of Genius. 
— Abauzit, Malcolm, Burke. 

"Temper is nine-tenths of Christianity." — Bishop Wilson. 
" Heaven is a temper, not a place." — Dr. Chalmers. 

[~T has been said that men succeed in life quite as 
-*- much by their temper as by their talents: How- 
ever this may be, it is certain that their happiness in 
life depends mainly upon their equanimity of disposition, 
their patience and forbearance, and their kindness and 
thoughtfulness for those about them. It is really true 
what Plato says, that in seeking the good of others we 
find our own. 

There are some natures so happily constituted that 
the}^ can find good in every thing. There is no calam- 
ity so great but they can educe comfort or consolation 
from it — no sky so black but they can discover a gleam 
of sunshine issuing through it from some quarter or 
another; and if the sun be not visible to their eyes, 
they at least comfort themselves with the thought that 
it is there, though veiled from them for some good and 
wise purpose. 

277 



278 Cheerfulness of Nature. 

Such happy natures are to be envied. They have a 
beam in the eye — a beam of pleasure, gladness, religious 
cheerfulness, philosophy, call it what you will. Sun- 
shine is about their hearts, and their mind gilds with 
its own hues all that it looks upon. When they have 
burdens to bear, they bear them cheerfully — not repin- 
ing, nor fretting, nor wasting their energies in useless 
lamentation, but struggling onward manfully, gathering 
up such flowers as lie along their path. 

Let it not for a moment be supposed that men such 
as those we speak of are weak and unreflective. The 
largest and most comprehensive natures are generally 
also the most cheerful, the most loving, the most hope- 
ful, the most trustful. It is the wise man, of large vis- 
ion, who is the quickest to discern the moral sunshine 
gleaming through the darkest cloud. In present evil, he 
sees prospective good; in pain, he recognizes the effort 
of nature to restore health; in trials, he finds correction 
and discipline; and in sorrow and suffering, he gathers 
courage, knowledge, and the best practical wisdom. 

When Jeremy Taylor had lost all — when his house 
had been plundered, and his family driven out of doors, 
and all his worldly estate had been sequestrated — he 
could still write thus: "I am fallen into the hands of 
publicans and sequestrators, and they have taken all 
from me; what now? Let me look about me. They 
haVe left me the sun and moon, a loving wife, and many 
friends to pity me, and some to relieve me; and I can 
still discourse, and, unless I list, thev have not taken 



Uses of Cheerfulness. 279 

away my merry countenance and my cheerful spirit, 
and a good conscience; they have still left me the provi- 
dence of God, and all the promises of the Gospel, and 
my religion, and my hopes of heaven, and my charity to 
them, too; and still I sleep and digest, I eat and drink, 
I read and meditate. . . . And he that hath so many 
causes of joy, and so great, is very much in love with 
sorrow and peevishness, who loves all these pleasures, 
and chooses to sit down upon his little handful of 
thorns. 

Although cheerfulness of disposition is very much a 
matter of inborn temperament, it is also capable of being 
trained and cultivated like any other habit. We may 
make the best of life, or we may make the worst of it; 
and it depends very much upon ourselves whether we 
extract joy or misery from it. There are always two 
sides of life on which we can look, according as we 
choose — the bright side or the gloomy. We can bring 
the power of the will to bear in making the choice, and 
thus cultivate the habit of being happy or the reverse. 
We can encourage the disposition of looking at the 
brightest side of things, instead of the darkest. And 
while we see the cloud, let us not shut our eyes to the 
silver lining. 

The beam in the eye sheds brightness, beauty, and 
joy upon life in all its phases. It shines upon coldness, 
and warms it; upon suffering, and comforts it; upon 
ignorance, and enlightens it; upon sorrow, and cheers 
It. The beam in the eye gives lustre to intellect, and 



280 Cheerfulness a Tonic. 

brightens beauty itself. Without it the sunshine of life 
is not felt, flowers bloom in vain, the marvels of heaven 
and earth are not seen or acknowledged, and creation is 
but a dreary, lifeless, soulless blank. 

While cheerfulness of disposition is a great source of 
enjoyment in life, it is also a great safeguard of charac- 
ter. A devotional writer of the present day, in answer 
to the question, How are we to overcome temptations? 
says: "Cheerfulness is the first thing, cheerfulness is 
the second, and cheerfulness is the third." It furnishes 
the best soil for the growth of goodness and virtue. It 
gives brightness of heart and elasticity of spirit. It is 
the companion of charity, the nurse of patience, the 
mother of wisdom. It is also the best of moral and 
mental tonics. " The best cordial of all," said Dr. Mar- 
shall Hall to one of his patients, " is cheerfulness." 
And Solomon has said that " a merry heart doeth good 
like a medicine." 

When Luther was once applied to for a remedy 
against melancholy, his advice was: " Gayety and 
courage — innocent gayety, and rational, honorable 
courage — are the best medicine for young men, and for 
old men too; for all men against sad thoughts." Next 
to music, if not before it, Luther loved children and 
flowers. The great gnarled man had a heart as tender 
as a woman's. 

Cheerfulness is also an excellent wearing quality. It 
has been called the bright weather of the heart. It 
gives harmony of soul, and is a perpetual song without 



Cheerfulness a Tonic* 281 

words. It is tantamount to repose. It enables nature 
to recruit its strength; whereas worry and discontent 
debilitate it, involving constant wear-and-tear. 

How is it that we see such men as Lord Paimerston 
growing old in harness, working on vigorously to the 
end? Mainly through equanimity of temper and 
habitual cheerfulness. They have educated themselves 
in the habit of endurance, of not being easily provoked, 
of bearing and forbearing, of hearing harsh and even 
unjust things said of them without indulging in undue 
resentment, and avoiding worrying, petty, and self-tor- 
menting cares. An intimate friend of Lord Paimer- 
ston, who observed him closely for twenty years, has 
said that he never saw him angry, with perhaps one 
exception; and that was when the Ministry responsible 
for the calamity in Afghanistan, of which he was 
one, were unjustly accused by their opponents of 
falsehood, perjury, and willful mutilation of public 
documents. 

So far as can be learned from biography, men of the 
greatest genius have been for the most part cheerful, 
contented men — not eager for reputation, money, or 
power — but relishing life, and keenly susceptible of 
enjoyment, as we find reflected in their works. Such 
seem to have been Homer, Horace, Virgil, Montaigne, 
Shakspeare, Cervantes. Healthy, serene cheerfulness is 
apparent in their great creations. Among the same 
class of cheerful- minded men may also be mentioned 
Luther, More, Bacon, Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, 



282 Great Men Cheerful 

and Michael Angelo. Perhaps they were happy because 
constantly occupied, and in the pleasantest of all work 
— that of creating out of the fullness and richness of 
their great minds. 

Milton, too, though a man of many trials and suffer- 
ings, must have been a man of great cheerfulness and 
elasticity of nature. Though overtaken by blindness, 
deserted by friends, and fallen upon evil days — " dark- 
ness before, and danger's voice behind " — yet did he 
not bate heart or hope, but " still bore up, and steered 
right onward." 

Henry Fielding was a man borne down through life 
by debt, and difficulty, and bodily suffering; and yet 
Lady Mary Wortley Montague has said of him that, 
by virtue of his cheerful disposition, she was persuaded 
he u had known more happy moments than any person 
on earth."' 1 

Dr. Johnson, through all his trials and sufferings and 
hard fights with fortune, was a courageous and cheer- 
ful-natured man. He manfully made the best of life, 
and tried to be glad in it. Once when a clergyman 
was complaining of the dullness of society in the 
country, saying "they only talk of runts" (young 
cows), Johnson felt flattered by the observation of Mrs. 
Thrale's mother, who said, " Sir, Dr. Johnson would 
learn to talk of runts " — meaning that he was a man 
who would make the most of his situation, whatever it 
was. 

Johnson was of opinion that a man grew better as 



Instances of Cheerful Men 283 

he grew older, and that his nature mellowed with age # 
This is certainly a much more cheerful view of human 
nature than that of Lord Chesterfield, who saw life 
through the eyes of a cynic, and held that " the heart 
never grows better by age; it only grows harder.'" But 
both sayings may be true, according to the point from 
which life is viewed and the temper by which a man is 
governed ; for while the good, profiting by experience, 
and disciplining themselves by self-control, will grow 
better, the ill-conditioned, uninfluenced by experience, 
will only grow worse. 

Sir Walter Scott was a man full of the milk of human 
kindness. Every body loved him. He was never five 
minutes in a room ere the little pets of the family, 
whether dumb or lisping, had found out his kindness 
for all their generation. Scott related to Captain Hall 
an incident of his boyhood which showed the tender- 
ness of his nature. One day, a dog coming towards 
him, he took up a big stone, threw it, and hit the dog. 
The poor creature had strength enough left to crawl up 
to him and lick his feet, although he saw its leg was 
broken. The incident, he said, had given him the 
bitterest remorse in his after-life; but he added, "An 
<early circumstance of that kind, properly reflected on, 
is calculated to have the best effect on one's character 
throughout life." 

"Give me an honest laugher," Scott would say; and 
he himself laughed the heart's laugh. He had a kind 
-word for every body, and his kindness acted all round 



284 Great Men Cheerful, 

him like a contagion, dispelling the reserve and awe 
which his great name was calculated to inspire. " He'll 
come here," said the keeper of the ruins of Melrose 
Abbey to Washington Irving — " he'll come here some- 
times wi' great folks in his company, and the first I'll 
know of it is hearing his voice calling out, ' Johnny I 
Johnny Bower! ' And when I go out I'm sure to be 
greeted wi' a joke or a pleasant word. He'll stand and 
crack and laugh wi' me just like an auld wife; and to 
think that of a man that has such an anvfit? knowledge 
o 1 history ! " 

One of the sorest trials of a man's temper and pa- 
tience was that which befell Abauzit, the natural phi- 
losopher, while residing at Geneva — resembling in many 
respects a similar calamity which occurred to Newton, 
and which he bore with equal resignation. Among 
other things, Abauzit devoted much study to the ba- 
rometer and its variations, with the object of deducing 
the general laws which regulated atmospheric pressure. 
During twenty-seven years he made numerous observa- 
tions daily, recording them on sheets prepared for the 
purpose. One day, when a new servant was installed 
in the house, she immediately proceeded to display her 
zeal by " putting things to rights." Abauzit's study, 
among other rooms, was made tidy and set in order. 
When he entered it, he asked of the servant, " What 
have you done with the paper that was round the ba- 
rometer?" " Oh, sir," was the reply, " it was so dirty 
that I burnt it, and put in its place this paper, which 



Cheerful Workers. 285 

you will see is quite new.' 1 Abauzit crossed his arms, 
and after some moments of internal struggle, he said, 
in a tone of calmness and resignation: " You have de- 
stroyed the result of twenty-seven years' labor; in future 
touch nothing whatever in this room.'" 

Such are only a few instances of the cheerful work- 
ingness of great men, which might, indeed, be multiplied 
to any extent. All large, healthy natures are cheerful 
as well as hopeful. Their example is also contagious 
and diffusive, brightening and cheering all who come 
within reach of their influence. It is said of Sir John 
Malcolm, when he appeared in a saddened camp in 
India, that "it was like a gleam of sunlight, ... no 
man left him without a smile on his face. He was ' boy 
Malcolm' still. It was impossible to resist the fascina- 
tion of his genial presence." 

There was the same joyousness of nature about Ed- 
mund Burke. Once at a dinner at Sir Joshua Reynold's, 
when the conversation turned upon the suitability of 
liquors for particular temperaments, Johnson said, 
" Claret is for boys, port for men, and brandy for he- 
roes." "Then," said Burke, "let me have claret: I 
love to be a boy, and to have the careless gayety of 
boyish days." And so it is that there are old young 
men, and young old men — some who are as joyous and 
cheerful as boys in their old age, and others who are as 
morose and cheerless as saddened old men while still in 
their boyhood. 

In the presence of some priggish youths, we have 



286 



Cheerfulness. 



heard a cheerful old man declare that, apparently, there 
would soon be nothing but" old boys' 1 left. Cheerful- 
ness, being generous and genial, joyous and hearty, is 
never the characteristics of prigs. Goethe used to ex- 
claim of goody-goody persons, "Oh! if they had but 
the heart to commit an absurdity!" This was when he 
thought they wanted heartiness and nature. " Pretty 
dolls!" was his expression when speaking of them, and 
turning away. 




CHAPTER XXVI. 

TEMPER — CHEERFULNESS. 

Basis of Cheerfulness. — Beneficence and Benevolence. — Power of Kindness. 
— Shallowness of Discontent. — Morbidity of Temper.— Querulousness. — 
St. Francis de Sales on the Little Virtues. — Gentleness. — Cheerfulness 
and Hope. 

"And should my youth, as youth is apt, I know, 

Some harshness show ; 
All vain asperities I day by day 

Would wear away, 
Till the smooth temper of my age should be 
Like the high leaves upon the Holly-Tree." — Southey. 

" Even Power itself hath not one-half the might of gentleness." 

— Leigh Hunt. 

M\HE true basis of cheerfulness is love, hope, and 
-*- patience. Love evokes love, and begets loving- 
kindness. Love cherishes hopeful and generous thoughts 
of others. It is charitable, gentle, and truthful. It is a 
discerner of good. It turns to the brightest side of 
things, and its face is ever directed towards happiness. 
It sees " the glory in the grass, the sunshine on the 
flower.'" It encourages happy thoughts, and lives in an 
atmosphere of cheerfulness. It costs nothing, and yet 
is invaluable; for it blesses its possessor, and grows up 
in abundant happiness in the bosoms of others. Even 
its sorrows are linked with pleasures, and its very tears 
are sweet. 

287 



288 Basis of Cheerfulness. 

Bentham lays it clown as a principle, that a man be- 
comes rich in his own stock of pleasures in proportion 
to the amount he distributes to others. His kindness 
will evoke kindness, and his happiness be increased by 
his own benevolence. " Kind words," he says, " cost no 
more than unkind ones. Kind words produce kind ac- 
tions, not only on the part of him to whom they are ad- 
dressed, but on the part of him by whom they are em 
ployed; and this not incidentally only, but habitually 
in virtue of the principle of association.'" .... "It 
may, indeed, happen that the effort of beneficence may 
not benefit those for whom it was intended; but when 
wisely directed, it must benefit the person from whom 
it emanates. Good and friendly conduct may meet with 
an unworthy and ungrateful return ; but the absence of 
gratitude on the part of the receiver can not destroy the 
self-approbation which recompenses the giver, and we 
may' scatter the seeds of courtesy and kindliness around 
us at so little expense. Some of them will inevitably 
fall on good ground, and grow up into benevolence in 
the minds of others ; and all of them will bear fruit of 
happiness in the bosom whence they spring. Once blest 
are all the virtues always; twice blest sometimes.'" 

The poet Rogers used to tell a story of a little girl, a 
great favorite with every one who knew her. Some one 
said to her, "Why does every body love you so much?" 
She answered, " I think it is because I love every body 
so much." This little story is capable of a very wide 
application; for our happiness as human beings, gener- 




I AM LDYED BECAUSE I LDTTE 

ENGRAVED FOR HOMES. 



Beneficence and Benevolence. 289 

ally speaking, will be found to be very much in propor- 
tion to the number of things we love and the number 
of things that love us. And the greatest worldly suc- 
cess, however honestty achieved, will contribute com- 
paratively little to happiness unless it be accompanied 
by a lively benevolence towards every human being. 

Kindness is indeed a great power in the world. 
Leigh Hunt has truly said that " Power itself hath not 
one-half the might of gentleness." Men are always 
best governed through their affections. There is a 
French proverb which says that, " Les Jwmmes se 
prennent par la douceur /" and a coarser English one, 
to the effect that " More wasps are caught by honey 
than by vinegar." " Every act of kindness," says 
Bentham, "is in fact an exercise of power, and a stock 
of friendship laid up; and why'should not power exercise 
itself in the production of pleasure as of pain?" 

Kindness does not consist in gifts but in gentleness 
and generosity of spirit. Men may give their money 
which comes from the purse, and withhold their kind- 
ness which comes from the heart. The kindness that 
displays itself in giving money does not amount to 
much, and often does quite as much harm as good; but 
the kindness of true sympathy, of thoughtful help, is 
never without beneficent results. 

The good temper that displays itself in kindness must 
not be confounded with softness or silliness. In its best 
form, it is not a merely passive but an active condition 
of being. It is not by any means indifferent, but largely 

19 



290 Poiver of Kindness* 

sympathetic. It does not characterize the lowest and 
most gelatinous forms of human life, but those that are 
the most highly organized. True kindness cherishes 
and actively promotes all reasonable instrumentalities 
for doing practical good in its own time; and, looking 
into futurity, sees the same spirit working on for the 
eventual elevation and happiness of the race. 

It is the kindly-dispositioned men who are the active 
men of the world, while the selfish and the skeptical, 
who have no love but for themselves, are its idlers. 
BufTon used to say that he would give nothing for a 
young man who did not begin life with an enthusiasm 
of some sort. It showed that at least he had faith in 
something good, lofty, and generous, evefi if unattain- 
able. 

Egotism, skepticism, and selfishness are always 
miserable companions in life, and they are especially 
unnatural in youth. The egotist is next door to a 
fanatic. Constantly occupied with self, he has no 
thought to spare for others. He refers to himself in all 
things, thinks of himself, and studies himself,' until his 
own little self becomes his own little god. 

Worst of all are the grumblers and growlers at for- 
tune — who find that ''whatever is is wrong, 11 and will 
do nothing to set matters right — who declare all to be 
barren, " from Dan even to Beersheba.'" These grum- 
blers are invariably found the least efficient helpers in 
the school of life. As the worst workmen are usually 
the readiest to " strike, 7 ' so the least industrious members 



The Shallowness of Discontent 291 

of society are the readiest to complain. The worst 
wheel of all. is the one that creaks. 

There is such a thing as the cherishing of discontent 
until the feeling becomes morbid. The jaundiced see 
every thing about them yellow. The ill-conditioned 
think all things awry, and the whole world out of joint. 
All is vanity and vexation of spirit. The little girl in 
Punch, who found her doll stuffed with bran, and forth- 
with declared every thing to be hollow, and wanted to 
" go into a nunnery, 1 ' had her counterpart in real life. 
Many full-grown people are quite as morbidly unreason- 
able. There are those who may be said to " enjoy bad 
health;" they regard it as a sort of property. They 
can speak of" my head-ache," " my back-ache," and so 
forth, until, in course of time it becomes their most 
cherished possession. But perhaps it is the source to 
them of much coveted sympathy, without which they 
might find themselves of comparatively little importance 
in the world. 

We have to be on our guard against small troubles, 
which, by encouraging, we are apt to magnify into great 
ones. Indeed, the chief source of worry in the world is 
not real but imaginary evil— small vexations and trivial 
afflictions. In the presence of a great sorrow, all petty 
troubles disappear; but we are too ready to take some 
cherished misery to our bosom, and to pet it there. 
Very often it is the child of our fancy; and, forgetful 
of the many means of happiness which lie within our 
reach, we indulge this spoiled child of ours until it 



292 Queridousness. 

masters us. We shut the door against cheerfulness, 
and surround ourselves with gloom. The habit gives a 
coloring to our life. We grow querulous, moody, and 
unsympathetic. Our conversation becomes full of 
regrets. We are harsh in our judgment to others. We 
are unsociable, and think every body else is so. We 
make our breast a storehouse of pain, which we inflict 
upon ourselves as well as upon others. 

This disposition is encouraged by selfishness : indeed, 
it is, for the most part, selfishness unmingled, without 
any admixture of sympathy or consideration for the 
feelings of those about us. It is simply willfulness in 
the wrong direction. It is willful, because it might be 
avoided. Let the necessitarians argue as they may, 
freedom of will and action is the possession of every 
man and woman. It is sometimes our glory, and very 
often it is our shame: all depends upon the manner in 
which it is used. We can choose to look at the bright 
side of things or at the dark. We can follow good and 
eschew evil thoughts. We can be wrong-headed and 
wrong-hearted, or the reverse, as we ourselves deter- 
mine. The world will be to each one of us very much 
what we make it. The cheerful are its real possessors, 
for the world belongs to those who enjoy it. 

It must, however, be admitted that there are cases 
beyond the reach of the moralist. Once, when a misera- 
ble-looking dyspeptic called upon a leading physician, 
and laid his case before him, "Oh!" said the doctor, 
"you only want a good hearty laugh: go and see 






The Little Virtues. 293 

Grimaldi." " Alas!" said the miserable patient, "/am 
Grimaldi!." So, when Smollett, oppressed by disease, 
travelled over Europe in the hope of rinding health, he 
saw every thing through his own jaundiced eyes. " I'll 
tell it," said Smellfungus, " to the world." " You had 
better tell it," said Sterne, " to your physician." 

The restless anxious, dissatisfied temper, that is ever 
ready to run and meet care half-way, is fatal to all 
happiness and peace of mind. How often do we see men 
and women set themselves about as if with stiff bristles, 
so that one dare scarcely approach them without fear 
of being pricked ! For want of a little occasional com- 
mand over one's temper, an amount of misery is occa- 
sioned in society which is positively frightful. Thus 
enjoyment is turned into bitterness, and life becomes 
like a journey barefooted among thorns and briers and 
prickles. "Though sometimes small evils," says Rich- 
ard Sharp, " like invisible insects, inflict great pain, and 
a single hair may stop a vast machine, yet the chief 
secret of comfort lies in not suffering trifles to vex us; 
and in prudently cultivating an undergrowth of small 
pleasures, since very few great ones, alas! are let on 
long leases." 

St. Francis de Sales treats the same topic from the 
Christian's point of view. " How carefully," he says, 
" we should cherish the little virtues which spring up 
at the foot of the Cross!" When the saint was asked, 
"What virtues do you mean?" he replied: "Humility, 
patience, meekness, benignity, bearing one another's 



294 The Little Virtues. 

burden, condescension, softness of heart, cheerfulness, 
cordiality, compassion, forgiving injuries, simplicity, 
candor — all, in short, of that sort of little virtues. 
They, like unobstrusive violets, love the shade; like 
them, are sustained by dew; and though, like them, 
they make little show, they shed a sweet odor on all 
.around." 

And again he said: "If you would fall into any 
extreme, let it be on the side of gentleness. The human 
mind is so constructed that it resists vigor, and yields 
to softness. A mild word quenches anger, as water 
quenches the rage of fire; and by benignity any soil 
may be rendered fruitful. Truth, uttered with courtesy, 
is heaping coals of fire on the head — or rather, throwing 
roses in the face. How can we resist a foe whose 
weapons are pearls and diamonds? 17 

Meeting evils by anticipations is not the way to over- 
come them. If we perpetually carry our burdens about 
with us, they will soon bear us down under their load. 
When evil comes, we must deal with it bravely and 
hopefully. What Perthes wrote to a young man, who 
seemed to him inclined to take trifles as well as sorrows 
too much to heart, was doubtless good advice: "Go 
forward with hope and confidence. This is the advice 
given thee by an old man, who has had a full share of 
the burden and heat of life's day. We must ever stand 
upright, happen what may, and for this end we must 
cheerfully resign ourselves to the varied influences of 
this many-colored life. You may call this levity, and 



Cheerfulness and Hope- 295 

you are partly right — for flowers and colors are but 
trifles light as air — but such levity is a constituent 
portion of our human nature, without which it would 
sink under the weight of time. While on earth we 
must still play with earth, and with that which blooms 
and fades upon its breast. The consciousness of this 
mortal life being but the way to a higher goal by no 
means precludes our playing with it cheerfully; and, 
indeed, we must do so, otherwise our energy in action 
will entirely fail." 

Cheerfulness also accompanies patience, which is one 
of the main conditions of happiness and success in life. 
" He that will be served," says George Herbert, " must 
be patient." It was said of the cheerful and patient 
King Alfred, that " good fortune accompanied him like 
a gift of God." Marlborough's expectant calmness was 
great, and a principle secret of his success as a general. 
" Patience will overcome all things," he wrote to 
Godolphin, in 1 702. In the midst of a great emergency, 
while baffled and opposed by his allies, he said, " Hav- 
ing done all that is possible, we should submit with 
patience." 

Last and chiefest of blessings is Hope, the most com- 
mon of possessions; for, as Thales, the philosopher, 
said, "Even those who have nothing else have hope." 
Hope is the great helper of the poor. It has even been 
styled " the poor man's bread." It is also the sustainer 
and inspirer of great deeds. It is recorded of Alexan- 
der the Great that, when he succeeded to the throne of 



296 Pleasures of Hope. 

Macedon, he gave away among his friends the greater 
part of the estates which his father had left him; and 
when Perdiccas asked him what he reserved for him- 
self, Alexander answered, " The greatest possession of 
all— Hope I" 

The pleasures of memory, however great, are stale 
compared with those of hope ; for hope is the parent of 
all effort and endeavor; and " every gift of noble origin 
is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath." It may 
be said to be the moral engine that moves the world 
and keeps it in action; and at the end of all there 
stands before us what Robertson of Ellon styled " The 
Great Hope. 1 ' "If it were not for Hope," said Byron, 
" where would the Future be? — in hell! It is useless 
to say where the Present is, for most of us know; and 
as for the Past, what predominates in memory? — Hope 
baffled. Ergo, in all human affairs it is Hope, Hope, 
Hope!" 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

SELF-HELP NATIONAL AND INDIVIDUAL. 

Spirit of Self-heip. — Institutions and Men. — Government a Reflex of the 
Individualism of a Nation. — Caesarism and Self-help. — William Dargart 
on Independence. — Patient Laborers in all Ranks. — Self-help a Feature 
in the English Character. — Power of Example and of Work in Practical 
Education. — Value of Biographies. — Great Men Belong to no Exclusive 
Class or Rank. — Illustrious Men Sprung from the Ranks. — Shakespeare. 
— Various Humble Origin of Many Eminent Men. 

" The worth of a State, in the long run, is the worth of the individuals 
composing it." — J. S. Mill. 

' ' (iTEAVEN helps those who help themselves" is 
a well-tried maxim, embodying in a small com- 
pass the results of vast human experience. The spirit 
of self-help is the root of all genuine growth in the 
individual; and, exhibited in the lives of many, it con- 
stitutes the true source of national vigor and strength. 
Help from without is often enfeebling in its effects, but 
help from within invariably invigorates. Whatever is 
done for men or classes, to a certain extent takes away 
the stimulus and necessity of doing for themselves ; and 
where men are subjected to over-guidance and over- 
government, the inevitable tendency is to render them 
comparatively helpless. 

297 



298 Government and the Individual* 

Even the best institutions can give a man no active 
help. Perhaps the most they can do is, to leave him 
free to develop himself and improve his individual con- 
dition. But in all times men have been prone to believe 
that their happiness and well-being were to be secured 
by means of institutions rather than by their own con- 
duct. Hence the value of legislation as an agent in 
human advancement has usually been much over-esti- 
mated. To constitute the millionth part of a Legisla- 
ture, by voting for one or two men once in three or five 
years, however conscientiously this duty may be per- 
formed, can exercise but little active influence upon any 
man's life and character. Moreover, it is every day 
becoming more clearly understood, that the function of 
Government is negative and restrictive, rather than 
positive and active; being resolvable principally into 
protection — protection of life, liberty, and property. 
Laws, wisely administered, will secure men in the en- 
joyment of the fruits of their labor, whether of mind or 
body, at a comparatively small personal sacrifice; but 
no laws, however stringent, can make 'the idle indus- 
trious, the thriftless provident, or the drunken sober. 
Such reforms can only be effected by means of individ- 
ual action, economy, and self-denial; by better habits, 
rather than by greater rights. 

The Government of a nation itself is usually found to 
be but the reflex of the individuals composing it. The 
Government that is ahead of the people will inevitably 
be dragged down to their level, as the Government 



Government and the Individual. 299 

that is behind them will in the long- run be dragged up. 
In the order of nature, the collective character of a na- 
tion will as surely find its befitting results in its law and 
government, as water finds its own level. The noble 
people will be nobly ruled, and the ignorant and corrupt 
ignobly. Indeed, all experience serves to prove that 
the worth and strength of a State depend far less upon 
the form of its institutions than upon the character of 
its men. For the nation is >only an aggregate of indi- 
vidual conditions, and civilization itself is but a question 
of the personal improvement of the men, women, and 
children of whom society is composed. 

National progress is the sum of individual industry, 
energy, and uprightness, as national decay is of individ- 
ual idleness, selfishness, and vice. What we are accus- 
tomed to decry as great social evils, will for the most 
part be found to be but the outgrowth of man's own 
perverted life; and though we may endeavor to cut 
them down and extirpate them by means of Law, they 
will only spring up again with fresh luxuriance in some 
other form, unless the conditions of personal life and 
character are radically improved. If this view be cor- 
rect, then it follows that the highest patriotism and 
philanthropy consist, not so much in altering laws and 
modifying institutions, as in helping and stimulating 
men to elevate and improve themselves by their own 
free and independent individual action. 

It may be of comparatively little consequence how a 
man is governed from without, whilst every thing 



300 National Progress. 

depends upon how he governs himself from within. The 
greatest slave is not he who is ruled by a despot, great 
though that evil be, but he who is the thrall of his own 
moral ignorance, selfishness,, and vice. Nations who 
are thus enslaved at heart can not be freed by any mere 
changes of masters or of institutions; and so long as 
the fatal delusion prevails, that liberty solely depends 
upon and consists in government, so long will such 
changes, no matter at what cost they may be affected, 
have as little practical and lasting result as the shifting 
of the figures in a phantasmagoria. The solid founda- 
tions of liberty must rest upon individual character; 
which is also the only'sure guaranty for social security 
and national progress. John Stuart Mill truly observes 
that " even despotism does not produce its worst effects 
so long as individuality exists under it; and whatever 
crushes individuality is despotism, by whatever name 
it be called." 

Old fallacies as to human progress are constantly 
turning up. Some call for Caesars, others for National- 
ities, and others for Acts of Parliament. We are to 
wait for Csesars, and when they are found, " happy the 
people who recognize and follow them." This doctrine 
shortly means, every thing for the people, nothing 
by them — a doctrine which, if taken as a guide, must, 
by destroying the free conscience of a community, 
speedily prepare the way for any form of despotism. 
Caesarism is human idolatry in its worst form — a wor- 
ship of mere power, as degrading in its effects as the 



Caesarism — Independence. 301 

worship of mere wealth would be. A far wealthier 
doctrine to inculcate among the nations would be that 
of Self- Help; and so soon as it is thoroughly understood 
and carried into action, Csesarism will be no more. The 
two principles are directly antagonistic; and what Victor 
Hugo said of the Pen and the Sword alike applies to 
them, u Ceci tuera cela." 

The power of Nationalities and Acts of Parliament 
is also a prevalent superstition. What William Dargan, 
one of Ireland's truest patriots, said at the closing of 
the first Dublin Industrial Exhibition, may well be 
quoted now. ■■" To tell the truth," he said, " I never 
heard the word independence mentioned that my own 
country and my own fellow-townsmen did not occur to 
my mind. I have heard a great deal about the inde- 
pendence that we were to get from this, that, and the 
other place, and of the great expectations we were to 
have from persons from other countries coming amongst 
us. Whilst I value as much as any man the great 
advantages that must result to us from that intercourse, 
I have already been deeply impressed with the feeling 
that our industrial independence is dependent upon our- 
selves. I believe that with simple industry and care- 
ful exactness in the utilization of our energies, we 
never had a fairer chance nor a brighter prospect, than 
the present. We have made a step, but perseverance 
is the great agent of success; and if we but go on zeal- 
ously, I believe in my conscience that in a short period 
we shall arrive at a position of equal comfort, of equal 



302 Life "a Soldiers Battle:' 

happiness, and of equal independence, with that of any 
other people." 

All nations have been made what they are by the 
thinking and the working of many generations of men. 
Patient and persevering laborers in all ranks and con- 
ditions of life, cultivators of the soil and explorers of 
the mine, inventors and discoverers, manufacturers, 
mechanics and artisans, poets, philosophers and politi- 
cians, all have contributed towards the grand result, 
one generation building upon another's labors, and 
carrying them forward to still higher stages. This 
constant succession of noble workers — the artisans of 
civilization — has served to create order out of chaos in 
industry, science, and art; and the living race has thus, 
in the course of nature, become the inheritor of the rich 
estate provided by the skill and industry of our fore- 
fathers, which is placed in our hands to cultivate, and 
to hand down, not only unimpaired but improved, to 
our successors. 

The spirit of self-help, as exhibited in the energetic 
action of individuals, has in all times been a marked 
feature in the English character, and furnishes the true 
measure of our power as a nation. Rising above the 
heads of the mass, there were always to be found a 
series of individuals distinguished beyond others, who 
commanded the public homage. But our progress has 
also been owing to multitudes of smaller and less known 
men. Though only the generals' names may be re- 
membered in the history of any great campaign, it has 



The Best Practical Education. 303 

been in a great measure through the individual valor 
and heroism of the privates that victories have been 
won. And life, too, is " a soldier's battle " — men in the 
ranks having in all times been amongst the greatest of 
workers. Many are the lives of men unwritten, which 
have nevertheless as powerfully influenced civilization 
and progress as the more fortunate Great whose names 
are recorded in biography. Even the humblest person,, 
who sets before his fellows an example of industry, 
sobriety, and upright honesty of purpose in life, has a 
present as well as a future influence upon the well-being 
of his country; for his life and character pass uncon- 
sciously into the lives of athers, and propagate good 
example for all time to come. 

Daily experience shows that it is energetic individu- 
alism which produces the most powerful effects upon 
the life and action of others, and really constitutes the 
best practical education. Schools, academies, and col- 
leges, give but the merest beginnings of culture in com- 
parison with it. Far- more influential is the life-educa- 
tion daily given in our homes, in the streets, behind 
counters, in workshops, at the loom and the plough, in 
counting-houses and manufactories, and in the busy 
haunts of men. This is that finishing instruction as 
members of society, which Schiller designated " the edu- 
cation of the human race," consisting in action, conduct, 
self-culture, self-control — all that tends to discipline a 
man truly, and fit him for the proper performance of 
the duties and business of life — a kind of education not 



304 Difficulties the Best Helpers. 

to be learned from books, or acquired by any amount 
of mere literary training. With his usual weight of 
words Bacon observes, that " Studies teach not their 
own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and above 
them, won by observation;" a remark that holds true 
of actual life, as well as of the cultivation of the intellect 
itself. For all experience serves to illustrate and enforce 
the lesson, that a man perfects himself by work more 
than by reading — that it is life rather than literature, 
action rather than study, and character rather than 
biography, which tend perpetually to renovate mankind. 

Biographies of great, but especially of good men, are 
nevertheless most instructive and useful, as helps, 
guides, and incentives to others. Some of the best are 
almost equivalent to gospels — teaching high living, high 
thinking and energetic action for their own and the 
world's good. The valuable examples which they 
furnish of the power of self-help, of patient purpose, 
resolute working, and steadfast integrity, issuing in the 
formation of truly noble and manly character, exhibit 
in language not to be misunderstood, what it is in the 
power of each to accomplish for himself; and eloquent- 
ly illustrate the efficacy of self-respect and self-reliance 
in enabling men of even the humblest rank to work out 
for themselves an honorable competency and a solid 
reputation. 

Great men of science, literature, and art — apostles 
of great thoughts and lords of the great heart — have 
belonged to no exclusive class or rank in life. They have 



Difficulties the Best Helpers. 305 

come alike from colleges, workshops, and farm-houses 
— from the huts of poor men and the mansions of the 
rich. Some of God's greatest apostles have come from 
" the ranks." The poorest have sometimes taken the 
highest places, nor have difficulties apparently the most 
insuperable proved obstacles in their way. Those very 
difficulties, in many instances, would even seem to have 
been their best helpers, by evoking their powers of 
labor and endurance, and stimulating into life faculties 
which might otherwise have lain dormant. The in- 
stances of obstacles thus surmounted, and of triumphs 
thus achieved, are indeed so numerous, as almost to jus- 
tify the proverb that " with Will one can do anything." 
Take, for instance, the remarkable fact, that from the 
barber's shop came Jeremy Taylor, the most poetical 
of divines ; Sir Richard Arkwright, the inventor of the 
spinning-jenny and founder of the cotton manufacture; 
Lord Tenterden, one of the most distinguished of Lord 
Chief Justices; and Turner, the greatest among land- 
scape painters. 

No one knows to a certainty what Shakspeare was; 
but it is unquestionable that he sprang from a humble 
rank. His father was a butcher and grazier; and 
Shakspeare himself is supposed to have been in early 
life a wool-comber; whilst others aver that he was an 
usher in a school, and afterwards a scrivener's clerk. 
He truly seems to have been " not one, but all man- 
kind's epitome." For such is the accuracy of his sea- 
phrases that a naval writer alleges that he must have 
20 



306 Some of the Greatest Men. 

been a sailor; whilst a clergyman "infers, from internal 
evidence in his writings, that he was probably a parson's 
clerk; and a distinguished judge of horse-flesh insists 
that he must have been a horse-dealer. Shakspeare 
was certainly an actor, and in the course of his life 
"played many parts," gathering his wonderful stores 
of knowledge from a wide field of experience and obser- 
vation. In any event, he must have been a close 
student and a hard worker, and to this day his writings 
continue to exercise a powerful influence on the forma- 
tion of English character. 

The common class of d ay- laborers • has given us 
Brindley the engineer, Cook the navigator, and Burns 
the poet. Masons and bricklayers can boast of Ben 
Jonson, who worked at the building of Lincoln's Inn, 
with a trowel in his hand and a book in his pocket, 
Edwards and Telford the engineers, Hugh Miller the 
geologist, and Allen Cunningham the writer and 
sculptor; whilst among distinguished carpenters we 
find the names of Inigo Jones the architect, Harrison 
the chronometer-maker, John Hunter the physiologist, 
Romney and Opie the painters, Professor Lee the 
Orientalist, and John Gibson the sculptor. 

From the weaver class have sprung Simson the 
mathematician. Bacon the sculptor, the two Milners, 
Adam Walker, John Foster, Wilson the ornithologist, 
Dr. Livingstone the missionary traveller, and Tannahill 
the poet. Shoemakers have given us Sir Cloudesiey 
Shovel the great Admiral, Sturgeon the electrician. 



Have Come from " the Hanks" 307 

Samuel Drew the essayist, Gifford the editor of the 
u Quarterly Review," Bloomfield the poet, and William 
Carey the missionary; whilst Morrison, another labori- 
ous missionary, was a maker of shoe-lasts. Within the 
last few years, a profound naturalist has been discovered 
in the person of a shoemaker at Banff, named Thomas 
Edwards, who, while maintaining himself by his trade, 
has devoted his leisure to the study of natural science, 
in all its branches, his researches in connection with 
the smaller crustacean having been rewarded by the 
discovery of a new species, to which the name of 
"Praniza Edwardsii " has been given by naturalists. 

Nor have tailors been undistinguished. John Stow, 
the historian, worked at the trade during some part of 
his life. Jackson, the painter, made clothes until he 
reached manhood. The brave Sir John Hawks wood, 
who so greatly distinguished himself at Poictiers, and 
was knighted by Edward III. for his valor, was in early 
life apprenticed to a London tailor. Admiral Hobson, 
who broke the boom at Vigo in 1702, belonged to the 
same calling. He was working as a tailor's apprentice 
near Bonchurch, in the Isle of Wight, when the news 
flew through the village that a squadron of men-of-war 
was sailing off the island. He sprang from the shop- 
board, and ran down with his comrades to the beach, 
to gaze upon the glorious sight. The boy was suddenly 
inflamed with the ambition to be a sailor; and springing 
into a boat, he rode off to the squadron, gained the ad- 
miral's ship, and was accepted as a volunteer. Years 



308 Men of Science. 

after, he returned to his native village full of honors, 
and dined off bacon and eggs in the cottage where he 
had worked as an apprentice. But the greatest tailor 
of all is unquestionably Andrew Johnson, the late Pre- 
sident of the United States — a man of extraordinary 
force of character and vigor of intellect. In his great 
speech at Washington, when describing himself as hav- 
ing begun his political career as an alderman, and run 
through ail the branches of the legislature, a voice in 
the crowd cried, "From a tailor up.' 1 It was charac- 
teristic of Johnson to take the intended sarcasm in good 
part, and even to turn it to account. " Some gentleman 
says I have been a tailor. That does not disconcert me 
in the least; for when I was a tailor I had the reputa- 
tion of being a good one, and making close fits ; I was 
always punctual with my customers, and always did 
good work." 

Cardinal Wolsey, DeFoe, Akenside, and Kirk White 
were the sons of butchers; Bunyan was a tinker, and 
Joseph Lancaster a basket-maker. Among the great 
names identified with the invention of the steam engine 
are those of Newcomen, Watt, and Stephenson; the 
first a blacksmith, the second a maker of mathematical 
instruments, and the third an engine-fireman. Hunt- 
ington the preacher was originally a coal-heaver, and 
Bewick, the father of wood-engraving, a coal-miner. 
Dodsley was a footman, and Holcroft a groom. Baffin 
the navigator began his seafaring career as a man be- 
fore the mast, and Sir Cloudesley Shovel as a cabin-boy. 



Men of Science. 



309 



Herschel played the oboe in a military band. Chantrey, 
was a journeyman carver, Etty a journeyman printer 
and Sir Thomas Lawrence the son of a tavern-keeper. 
Michael Farady, the son of a blacksmith, was in early 
life apprenticed to a book-binder, and worked at that 
trade until he reached his twenty-second year; he now 
occupies the very first rank as a philosopher, excelling 
even his master, Sir Humphrey Davy, in the art of lu- 
cidly expounding the most difficult and abstruse points 
in natural science. 




CHAPTER XXVIII. 

SELF-HELP EXAMPLES. 

Distinguished Astronomers. — Eminent Sons of Clergymen. — Of Attorneys. 
— Illustrious Foreigners of Humble Origin.— Promotions from the Ranks 
in the French Army. — Instances of Persevering Application and Energy. 
— W. J. Fox. — Diligence Indispensable to Usefulness and Distinction. — 
The Wealthier Ranks not all Idlers. — Examples. — Military Men. — Philos- 
ophers. — Men of Science. — Politicians. — Literary Men. — Wadsworth on 
Self-reliance. — Men their Own best Helpers. 

"We put too much faith in sy terns, and look too little to men." — B. 
Disraeli. 

CA)M0NG those who have given the greatest im- 
-*--*- pulse to the sublime science of astronomy, we find 
Copernicus, the son of a Polish baker; Kepler, the son 
of a German public-house keeper, and himself the " gar- 
con de cabaret;" d'Alembert, a foundling picked up 
one winter's night on the steps of the church of St. Jean 
le Rond at Paris, and brought up by the wife of a gla- 
zier; and Newton and Laplace, the one the son of a 
poor peasant of Beaumont-en-Auge, near Honfleur. 
Notwithstanding their comparatively adverse circum- 
stances in early life, these distinguished men achieved 
a solid and enduring reputation by the exercise of their 
genius, which all the wealth in the world could not have 
purchased. The very possession of wealth might in- 

310 



Eminent Middle- Class Men. 311 



* 



deed have proved an obstacle greater even than the 
humble means to which they were born. The father 
of Lagrange, the astronomer and mathematician, held 
the office of Treasurer of War at Turin; but having 
ruined himself by speculations, his family were reduced 
to comparative poverty. To this circumstance Lagrange 
was in after-life accustomed partly to attribute his own 
fame and happiness. " Had I been rich, 71 said he, " I 
should probably not have become a mathematician. 

The sons of clergymen and ministers of religion gen- 
erally have particularly distinguished themselves in our 
country's history. Amongst them we find the names 
of Drake and Nelson, celebrated in naval heroism; of 
Wren, Reynolds, Wilson, and Wilkie, in art; of Thur- 
low and Campbell, in law; and of Addison, Thompson, 
Goldsmith, Coleridge, and Tennyson, in literature. 
Lord Hardinge, Colonel Edwardes, and Major Hodson, 
so honorably known in Indian warfare, were also the 
sons of clergymen. Indeed, the empire of England in 
India was won and held chiefly by men of the middle 
class — such as Clive, Warren Hastings, and their suc- 
cessors — men for the most part bred in factories and 
trained to habits of business. 

Among the sons of attorneys we find Edmund Burke, 
Smeaton the engineer, Scott and Wordsworth, and 
Lords Somers, Hardwick, and Dunning. Sir William 
Blackstone was the posthumous son of a silk-mercer. 
Lord Gilford's father was a grocer at Dover; Lord 
Denhairfs a physician; Judge Talfourd's a country 



312 Illustrious Foreigners. 

brewer; and Lord Chief Baron Pollock's a celebrated 
saddler at Charing Cross. Layard, the discoverer of 
the monuments of Nineveh, was an articled clerk in a 
London solicitor's office; and Sir William Armstrong, 
the inventor of hydraulic machinery and of the Arm- 
strong ordinance, was also trained to the law and prac- 
ticed for some time "as an attorney, Milton was the 
son of a London scrivener, and Pope and Southey were 
the sons of linen-drapers. Professor Wilson was the 
son of a Paisley manufacturer, and Lord Macaulay ot 
an African merchant. Keats was a druggist, and Sir 
Humphry Davy a country apothecary's apprentice. 

Speaking of himself, Davy once said, " What I am I 

i 

have made myself: I say this without vanity, and in 
pure simplicity of heart." Richard Owen, the Newton 
of Natural History, began life as a midshipman, and 
did not enter upon the line of scientific research in which 
he has since become so distinguished, until compara- 
tively late in life. Pie laid the foundations of his great 
knowledge while occupied in cataloguing the magnifi- 
cent museum accumulated by the industry of John 
Hunter, a work which occupied him at the college of 
Surgeons during a period of about ten years. 

Foreign not less than English biography abounds in 
illustrations of men who have glorified the lot of pov- 
erty by their labors and their genius. In Art we find 
Claude, the son of a pastry-cook; Geefs, of a baker; 
Leopold Robert, of a watchmaker; and Haydn, of a 
wheelwright; whilst Daguerre was a scene-painter at 



Of Humble Origin. 318 

the opera. The father of Gregory VIL was a carpen- 
ter; of Sextus V., a shepherd; and of Adrian VI., a poor 
bargeman. When a boy, Adrian, unable to pay for a 
light by which to study, was accustomed to prepare 
his lessons by the light of the lamps in the streets and 
the church porches, exhibiting a degree of patience and 
industry which were the certain forerunners of his fu- 
ture distinction. Of like humble origin were Hauy, the 
mineralogist, who was the son of a weaver of Saint- 
Just; Hautefeuille, the mechanician, of a baker at Or- 
leans; Joseph Fourier, the mathematician, of a tailor 
at Auxerre; Durand, the architect, of a Paris shoema- 
ker; and Gesner, the naturalist, of a skinner or worker 
in hides, at Zurich. This last began his career under 
all the disadvantages attendant on poverty, sickness, 
and domestic calamity; none of which, however, were 
sufficient to damp his courage or hinder his progress. 
His life was indeed an eminent illustration of the truth 
of the saying, that those who have most to do and are 
willing to work, will find the most time. Pierre Ramus 
was another man of like character. He was the son of 
poor parents in Picardy, and when a boy was employed 
to tend sheep. But not liking the occupation he ran 
away to Paris. After encountering much misery, he 
succeeded in entering the College of Navarre as a ser 
vant. The situation however, opened for him the road 
to learning, and he shortly became one of the most dis- 
tinguished men of his time. 

The chemist Vauquelin was the son of a peasant of 



314 Promotions from "the Ranks" 

St. Andre-d'Herbetot, in the Calvados. When a boy 
at school, though poorly clad, he was full of bright 
intelligence; and the master, who taught him to read 
and write, when praising him for his diligence, used to 
say, " Go on, my boy; work, study, Colin, and one day 
you will go as well dressed as the parish church-war- 
den!" A country apothecary who visited the school 
admired the robust boy's arms, and offered to take him 
into his laboratory to pound his drugs, to which Vau- 
quelin assented in the hope of being able to continue 
his lessons. But the apothecary would not permit him 
to spend any part of his time in learning; and on 
ascertaining this, the youth immediately determined to 
quit his service. He therefore left St. Andre and took 
the road for Paris with his haversack on his back. Ar- 
rived there, he searched for a place as apothecary's boy, 
but could not find one. Worn out by fatigue and des- 
titution, Vauquelin fell ill, and in that state was taken 
to the hospital, where he thought he should die. But 
better things were in store for the poor boy. He recov- 
ered, and again proceeded in his search for employment, 
which he at length found with an apothecary. Shortly 
after, he became known to Fourcroy the eminent 
chemist, who was so pleased with the youth that he 
made him his private secretary; and many years after, 
on the death of that great philosopher, Vauquelin suc- 
ceeded him as Professor of Chemistry. Finally in 
1829, the electors of the district of Calvados appointed 
him their representative in the Chamber of Deputies, 



In the French Army. 315 

and he re-entered in triumph the village which he had 
left so many years before, so poor and so obscure. 

England has no parallel instance to show, of promo- 
tions from the ranks of the army to the highest military 
offices, which have been so common in France since 
the first Revolution. " La carriere ouverte aux ta- 
lents ;1 has there received many striking illustrations, 
which would doubtless be matched among ourselves 
were the road to promotion as open. Hoche, Hum- 
bert, and Pichegru, began their respective careers as 
private soldiers. Hoche, while in the King's army, was 

accustomed to embroider waistcoats to enable him to 

\ 

earn money wherewith to purchase books on military 
science. Humbert was a scapegrace when a youth; 
at sixteen he ran away from home, and was by turns 
servant to a tradesman at Nancy, a workman at Lyons, 
and a hawker of rabbit-skins. In 1792, he enlisted as 
a volunteer; and in a year he was General of Brigade. 
Kleber, Lefevre, Suchet, Victor, Lannes, Soult, Massena, 
St. Cyr, D'Erlon, Murat, Augereau, Bessieres, and Ney, 
all rose from the ranks. In some cases promotion was 
rapid, in others it was slow. St. Cyr, the son of a tan- 
ner of Toul, began life as an actor, after which he en- 
listed in the Chasseurs, and was promoted to a captain- 
cy within a year. Victor, Due de Belluno, enlisted in 
the Artillery in 1781: during the events preceding the 
Revolution he was discharged; but immediately on 
the outbreak of war he re-enlisted, and in the course of 
a few months his intrepidity and ability secured his 



316 Persevering Application and Energy. 

promotion as Adjutant-Major and chief of battalion. 
Murat, " le beau sabreur,' 1 was the son of a village inn- 
keeper in Perigord, where he looked after the horses. 
He first enlisted in a regiment of Chasseurs, from which 
he was dismissed for insubordination; but again enlist- 
ing he shortly rose to the rank of Colonel. Ney enlist- 
ed at eighteen in a hussar regiment, and gradually ad- 
vanced step by step: Kleber soon discovered his mer- 
its, surnaming him " The Indefatigable," and promoted 
him to be Adjutant-General when only twenty-five. 
On the other hand, Soult was six years from the date 
of his enlistment before he reached the rank of sergeant. 
But Soult's advancement was rapid compared with that 
of Massena, who served for fourteen years before he 
was made sergeant; and though he afterwards rose 
successively, step by step, to the grades of Colonel, 
General of Division, and Marshal, he declared that the 
post of sergeant was the step which of all others had 
cost him the most labor to win. Similar promotions 
from the ranks in the French army, have continued 
down to our own day. Changarnier entered the King's 
bodyguard as a private in 1815. Marshal Bugeaud 
served four years in the ranks, after which he was made 
an officer. Marshal Randon, the present French Min- 
ister of War, began his military career as a drummer- 
boy; and in the portrait of him in the gallery at Ver- 
sailles, his hand rests upon a drum-head, the picture be- 
ing thus painted at his own request. Instances such 
as these inspire French soldiers with enthusiasm for 



Persevering Application and Energy. 317 

their service, as each private feels that he may possibly 
carry the baton of a marshal in his knapsack 

The instances of men, in this and other countries, 
who, by dint of persevering application and energy, 
have raised themselves from the humblest ranks of in- 
dustry to eminent position of usefulness and influence 
in society, are indeed so numerous that they have long 
ceased to be regarded as exceptional. Looking at 
some of the more remarkable, it might almost be said 
that early encounter with difficulty and adverse cir- 
cumstances was the necessary and indispensable con- 
dition of success. The British House of Commons has 
always contained a considerable number of such self- 
raised men — fitting representatives of the industrial 
character of the people; and it is to the credit of our 
Legislature that they have been welcomed and honored 
there. When the late Joseph Brotherton, member 
for Salford, in the course of the discussion on the Ten 
Hour's Bill, detailed with true pathos the hardships 
and fatigues to which he had been subjected when 
working as a factory-boy in a cotton-mill, and de- 
scribed the resolution which he had then formed, that 
if ever it was in his power he would endeavor to ame- 
liorate the condition of that class, Sir James Graham 
rose immediately after him, and declared, amidst the 
cheers of the House, that he did not before know that 
Mr. Brotherton's origin had been so humble, but that it 
rendered him more proud than he had ever before been 
of the House of Commons, to think that a person risen 



318 Mr. Lindsay. 

from that condition should be able to sit side by side 
on equal terms with the hereditary gentry of the land. 

The late Mr. Fox member for Oldham, was accus 
tomed to introduce his recollections of past times with 
the words, "when I was working as a weaver-boy at 
Norwich," and there are other members of parliament, 
still living, whose origin has been equally humble. 
Mr. Lindsay, the well-known ship-owner, until recently 
member for Sunderland, once told the simple story of 
his life to the electors of Weymouth, in answer to an 
attack made upon him by his political opponents. He 
had been left an orphan at fourteen, and when he left 
Glasgow for Liverpool to push his way in the world, 
not being able to pay the usual fare, the captain of the 
steamer agreed to take his labor in exchange, and the 
boy worked his passage by trimming the coals in the 
coal-hole. At Liverpool he remained for seven weeks 
before he could obtain employment, during which time 
he lived in sheds and fared hardly ; until at last he found 
shelter on board a West Indiaman. He entered as a 
boy, and before he was nineteen, by steady good con- 
duct he had risen to the command of a ship. At 
twenty-three he retired from the sea, and settled on 
shore, after which his progress was rapid: " he had 
prospered," he said, a by steady industry, by constant 
word, and by ever keeping in view the great principle 
of doing to others as you would be done by." 

The career of Mr. William Jackson, of Birkenhead^ 
the present member for North Derbyshire, bears con- 



William Jackson — Richard Cobden. 319 

siclerable resemblance to that of Mr. Lindsay. His fa- 
ther, a surgeon at Lancaster, died, leaving a family of 
eleven children, of whom William Jackson was the 
seventh son. The elder boys had been well-educated 
while the father lived, but at his death the younger mem- 
bers had to shift for themselves. William, when under 
twelve years old, was taken from school, and put to 
hard work at a ship's side from six in the morning till 
nine at night. His master falling ill, the boy was taken 
into the counting-house, where he had more leisure. 
This gave him an opportunity of reading, and having 
obtained access to a set of the " Encyclopaedia Britan- 
nica," he read the volumes through from A to Z, part- 
ly by day, but chiefly at night. He afterwards put 
himself to a trade, was diligent, and succeeded in it. 
Now he has ships sailing on almost every sea, and holds 
commercial relations with nearly every country on the 
globe. 

Among like men, of the same class may be ranked the 
late Richard Cobden, whose start in life was equally 
humble. The son of a small farmer at Midhurst in Sus- 
sex, he was sent at an early age to London and em- 
ployed as a boy in a warehouse in the City. He was 
diligent, well conducted, and eager for information. 
His master, a man of the old school, warned him against 
too much reading; but the boy went on in his own 
course, storing his mind with the wealth found in books. 
He was promoted from one position of trust to another. 
— became a traveller for his house — secured a large con- 



320 Diligence Indispensable. 

nection, and eventually started in business as a calico- 
printer at Manchester. Taking an interest in public 
questions, more especially in popular education, his at- 
tention was gradually drawn to the subject of the Corn 
Laws, to the repeal of which he may be said to have 
devoted his fortune and his life. It may be mentioned 
as a curious fact, that the first speech he delivered in 
public was a total failure. But he had great perseve- 
rance, application, and energy; and with persistency and 
practice, he became at length one of the most persua- 
sive and effective of public speakers, extorting the disin- 
terested eulogy of even Sir Robert Peel himself. M. 
Drouyn de Lhuys, the French Ambassador, has elo- 
quently said of Mr. Cobden, that he was " a living 
proof of what merit, perseverance, and labor can accom- 
plish; one of the most complete examples of those men 
who, sprung from the humblest ranks of society, raise 
themselves to the highest rank in public estimation by 
the effect of their own worth and of their personal ser- 
vices; finally, one of the rarest examples of the solid 
qualities inherent in the English character.' 1 

In all these cases, strenuous individual application 
was the price paid for distinction; excellence of any 
sort being invariably placed beyond the reach of indo- 
lence. It is the diligent hand and head alone that 
maketh rich — in self-culture, growth in wisdom, and in 
business. Even when men are born to wealth and high 
social position, any solid reputation which they may in- 
dividually achieve can only be attained by energetic 



The Wealthier Hanks not Idlers. 321 

application; for though an inheritance of acres may be 
bequeathed, an inheritance of knowledge and wisdom 
can not. The wealthy man may pay others for doing 
his work for him, but it is impossible to get his think- 
ing done for him by another, or to purchase any kind 
of self-culture. Indeed, the doctrine that excellence in 
any pursuit is only to be achieved by laborious appli- 
cation, holds as true in the case of the man of wealth as 
in that of Drew and Gifford, whose only school was a 
cobbler's stall, or Hugh Miller, whose only college was 
a Cromarty stone quarry. 

Riches and ease, it is perfectly clear, are not neces- 
sary for man's highest culture, else had not the world 
been so largely indebted in all times to those who have 
sprung from the humbler ranks. An easy and luxuri- 
ous existence does not train men to effort or encounter 
with difficulty; nor does it awaken that consciousness 
of power which is so necessary for energetic and effect- 
ive action in life. Indeed, so far from poverty being a 
misfortune, it may, by vigorous self-help, be converted 
even into a blessing; rousing a man to that struggle 
with the world in which, though some may purchase 
ease by degradation, the right minded and true-hearted 
find strength, confidence, and triumph. Bacon says, 
" Men seem neither to understand their riches nor their 
strength : of the former they believe greater things than 
they should; of the latter much less. Self-reliance and 
self-denial will teach a man to drink out of his own cis- 
tern, and eat his own sweet bread, and to learn and 

21 



322 The Wealthier Hanks not Idlers. 

labor truly to get his living, and carefully to expend the 
good things committed to his trust." 

Riches are so great a temptation to ease and self- 
indulgence, to which men are by nature prone, that the 
glory is all the greater of those who, born to ample for- 
tunes, nevertheless take an active part in the work of 
their generation — who " scorn delights and live labori- 
ous days. " It is to the honor of the wealthier ranks in 
this country that they are not idlers; for they do their 
fair share of the work of the state, and usually take 
more than their fair share of its dangers. It was a fine 
thing said of a subaltern officer in the Peninsular cam- 
paigns, observed trudging alone through mud and mire 
by the side of his regiment, " There goes £15,000 a 
year!" and in our own day, the bleak slopes of Sebas- 
topol and the burning soil of India have borne witness 
to the like noble self-denial and devotion on the part 
of our gentler classes; many a gallant and noble fel- 
low, of rank and estate, having risked his life, or lost it, 
in one or other of those fields of action, in the service 
of his country. 

Nor have the wealthier classes been undistinguished 
in the more peaceful pursuits of philosophy and science. 
Take, for instance, the great names of Bacon, the father 
of modern philosophy, and of Worcester, Boyle, Cav- 
endish, Talbot, and Rosse, in science. The last named 
may be regarded as the great mechanic of the peerage; 
a man who, if he had not been born a peer, would prob- 
ably have taken the highest rank as an inventor. So 



Sir Robert Peel. 323 

thorough is his knowledge of smith-work that he is said 
to have been pressed on one occasion to accept the 
foremanship of a large workshop, by a manufacturer 
to whom his rank was unknown. The great Rosse tel- 
escope, of his own fabrication, is certainly the most ex- 
traordinary instrument of the kind that has yet been 
constructed. 

But it is principally in the departments of politics 
and literature that we find the most energetic laborers 
amongst our higher classes. Success in these lines of 
action, as in all others, can only be achieved through in- 
dustry, practice, and study; and the great Minister, or 
parliamentary leader, must necessarily be amongst the 
very hardest of workers. Such was Palmerston; and 
such are Derby and Russell, Disraeli and Gladstone. 
These men have had the benefit of no Ten Hours' Bill, 
but have often, during the busy season of Parliament, 
worked " double shift," almost day and night. One of 
the most illustrious of such workers in modern times 
was unquestionably the late Sir Robert Peel. He pos- 
sessed in an extraordinary degree the power of contin- 
uous intellectual labor, nor did he spare himself. His 
career indeed presented a remarkable example of how 
much a man of comparatively moderate powers can ac- 
complish by means of assiduous application and inde- 
fatigable industry. During the forty years that he 
held a seat in Parliament, his labors were prodigious. 
He was a most conscientious man, and whatever he un- 
dertook to do, he did thoroughly. All his speeches 



324 Lord Brougham. 

bear evidence of his careful study of everything that 
had been spoken or written on the subject under con- 
sideration. He was elaborate almost to excess; and 
spared no pains to adapt himself to the various capaci- 
ties of his audience. Withal, he possessed much prac- 
tical sagacity, great strength of purpose, and power to 
direct the issues of action with steady hand and eye. 
In one respect he surpassed most men: his principles 
broadened and enlarged with time; and age, instead 
of contracting, only served to mellow and ripen his na- 
ture. To the last he continued open to the reception 
of new views, and, though many thought him cautious 
to excess, he did not allow himself to fall into that in- 
discriminating admiration of the past, which is the palsy 
of many minds similarly educated, and renders the old 
age of many nothing but a pity. 

The indefatigable industry of Lord Brougham has 
become almost proverbial. His public labors have ex- 
tended over a period of upwards of sixty years, during 
which he has ranged over many fields — of law, litera- 
ture, politics, and science — and achieved distinction in 
them all. How he contrived it, has been to many a 
mystery. Once, when Sir Samuel Romilly was request- 
ed to undertake some new work, he excused himself by 
saying that he had no time; "but," he added, " go with 
it to that fellow Brougham; he seems to have time for 
everything." The secret of it was that he never left a 
minute unemployed; withal he possessed a constitution 
of iron. When arrived at an age at which most men 



Sir E. Bidwer Lylton. 325 

would have retired from the world to enjoy their hard- 
earned leisure, perhaps to dose away their time in an 
easy-chair, Lord Brougham commenced and prosecuted 
a series of elaborate investigations as to the laws of 
Light, and he submitted the results to the most scien- 
tific audiences that Paris and London could muster. 
About the same time, he was passing through the press 
his admirable sketches of the " Men of Science and 
Literature of the Reign of George III.," and taking his 
full share of the law business and the political discus- 
sions in the House of Lords. Sidney Smith once re- 
commended him to confine himself to only the transac- 
tion of so much business as three strong men could get 
through. But such was Brougham's love of work 
— long become a habit — that no amount of application 
seemed to have been too great for him; and such was 
his love of excellence, that it has been said of him that 
if his station in life had only been that of a shoeblack, 
he would never have rested satisfied until he had become 
the best shoeblack in England. 

Another hard-working man of the same class is Sir 
E. Bulwer Lytton. Few writers have done more, or 
achieved higher distinctions in various walks as a novel- 
ist, poet, dramatist, historian, essayist, orator, and poli- 
tician. He has worked his way step by step, disdainful 
of ease, and animated throughout by the ardent desire 
to excel. On the score of mere industry, there are few 
living English writers who have written so much, and 
none that have produced so much of high quality. The 



326 Sir E. Bulwer Lytton. 

industry of Bulwer is entitled to all the greater praise 
that it has been entirely self-imposed. To hunt, and 
shoot, and live at ease — to frequent the clubs and enjoy 
the opera, with the variety of London visiting and 
sight-seeing during the "season," and then off to the 
country mansion, with its well-stocked preserves, and 
its thousand delightful out-door pleasures — to travel 
abroad, to Paris, Vienna, or Rome — all this is excessive- 
ly attractive to a lover of pleasure and a man of fortune, 
and by no means calculated to make him voluntarily 
undertake continuous labor of any kind. Yet these 
pleasures, all within his reach, Bulwer must, as compar- 
ed with men born to similar estate, have denied himself 
in assuming the position and pursuing the career of a 
literary man. Like Byron, his first effort was poetical 
("Weeds and Wild Flowers,") and a failure. His 
second was a novel ( u Falkland,") and it proved a fail- 
ure too. A man of weaker nerve would have dropped 
authorship; but Bulwer had pluck and perseverance; 
and he worked on, determined to succeed. He was in- 
cessantly industrious, read extensively, and from failure 
went courageously onward to success. " Pelham " 
followed " Falkland " within a year, and the remainder 
of Bulwer's literary life, now extending over a period 
of thirty years, has been a succession of triumphs. 

Mr. Disraeli affords a similar instance of the power 
of industry and application in working out an eminent 
public career. His first achievements were, like Bul- 
wer 's, in literature; and he reached success only through 



Mr. Disraeli. 327 

a succession of failures. His " Wondrous Tale of 
Alroy " and " Revolutionary Epic " were laughed at, 
and regarded as indications of literary lunacy. But he 
worked on in other directions, and his " Coningsby," 
" Sybil," and " Tancred," proved the sterling stuff of 
which he was made. As an orator, too, his first appear- 
ance in the House of Commons was a failure. It was 
spoken of as "more screaming than an Adelphi farce." 
Though composed in a grand and ambitious strain, 
every sentence was hailed with " loud laughter." 
"Hamlet " played as a comedy were nothing to it. But 
he concluded with a sentence which embodied a 
prophecy. Writhing under the laughter with which his 
studied eloquence had been received, he exclaimed, u I 
have begun several times many things, and have suc- 
ceeded in them at last. I will sit down now, but the 
time will come when you will hear me." The time did 
come; and how Disraeli succeeded in at length com- 
manding the attention of the first assembly of gentlemen 
in the world, affords a striking illustration of what 
energy and determination will do; for Disraeli earned 
his position by dint of patient industry. He did not, as 
many young men do, having once failed, retire dejected, 
to mope and whine in a corner, but diligently set him- 
self to work. He carefully unlearnt his faults, studied 
the character of his audience, practiced sedulously the 
art of speech, and industriously filled his mind with the 
elements of parliamentary knowledge. He worked 
patiently for success, and it came but slowly; then the 



328 Alexis de Tocqueville* 

House laughed with him, instead of at him. The 
recollection of his early failure was effaced, and by 
general consent he was at length admitted to be one of 
the most finished and effective of parliamentary speakers- 
Although much may be accomplished by means of 
individual industry and energy, as these and other 
instances set forth in the following pages served to illus- 
trate, it must at the same time be acknowledged that 
the help which we derive from others in the journey of 
life is of very great importance. The poet Words- 
worth has well said that " these two things, contradic- 
tory though they may seem, must go together — manly 
dependence and manly independence, manly reliance 
and manly self-reliance." From infancy to old age, all 
are more or less indebted to others for nurture and cul- 
ture; and the best and strongest are usually found the 
readiest to acknowledge such help. Take, for example, 
the career of the late Alexis de Tocqueville, a man 
doubly well-born, for his father was a distinguished 
peer of France, and his mother a grand-daughter of 
Malesherbes. Through powerful family influence, he 
was appointed Judge Auditor of Versailles when only 
twenty-one; but probably feeling that he had not fairly 
won the position by merit, he determined to give it 
up and owe his future advancement in life to hinself 
alone. " A foolish resolution," some will say; but De 
Tocqueville bravely acted it out. He resigned his ap- 
pointment, and made arrangements to leave France for 
the purpose of travelling through the United States. 






Alexis de TocqueviUe* 32& 

the results of which were published in his great book 
on ''Democracy in America/' His friend and travel- 
ling companion, Gustave de Beaumont, has described 
his indefatigable industry during this journey. "His 
nature,' 1 he says, "was wholly averse to idleness, and 
whether he was travelling or resting, his mind was 
always at work. . . . With Alexis, the most agreeable 
conversation was that which was the most useful. The 
worst day was the lost day, or the day ill spent; the 
least loss of time annoyed him." TocqueviUe himself 
wrote to a friend — " There is no time of life at which 
one can wholly cease from action; for effort without 
one's self, and still more, effort within, is equally neces- 
essary, if not more so, when we grow old, as it is in 
youth. I compare man in this world to a traveller 
journeying without ceasing towards a colder and colder 
region; the higher he goes, the faster he ought to walk. 
The great malady of the soul is cold. And in resisting 
this formidable evil, one needs not only to be sustained 
by the action of a mind employed, but also by contact 
with ones fellows in the business of life." 

Human character is moulded by a thousand subtle 
influences; by example and precept; by life and litera- 
ture; by friends and neighbors; by the world we live 
in as well as by the spirit of our forefathers, whose 
legacy of good words and deeds we inherit. But great, 
unquestionably, though these influences are acknowl- 
edged to be, it is nevertheless equally clear that men 
must necessarily be the active agents of their own well- 



330 



Men Their Own Best Helpers. 



being and well-doing; and that, however much the 
wise and the good may owe to others, they themselves 
must in the very nature of things be their own best 
helpers. 




CHAPTER XXIX. 

APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE. 

Oreat Results Attained by Simple Means. — Fortune Favors the Industrious. 
— "Genius is Patience." — Newton and Kepler. — Industry of Eminent 
Men. — Power Acquired by Repeated Effort. — Anecdote of Sir Robert 
Peel's Cultivation of Memory. — Facility Comes by Practice.— Importance 
of Patience. — Cheerfulness. — Hope an Important Element in Character. 
— Anecdote of Audubon the Ornithologist. — Anecdote of Mr. Carlyle 
and His MS. of the "French Revolution." — Perseverance of Watt and 
Stephenson. 

'• Rich are the diligent, who can command 

Time, nature's stock? and could his b our-glass fall, 
Would, as for seed of stars, stoop for the sand, 
And, by incessant labor, gather all." — D'Avenant. 

'TAHE greatest results in life are usually attained by 
simple means, and the exercise of ordinary quali- 
ties. The common life of every day, with its cares, 
necessities, and duties, affords ample opportunity for 
acquiring experience of the best kind; and its most 
beaten paths provide the true worker with abundant 
scope for effort and room for self-improvement. The 
road of human welfare lies along the old highway of 
steadfast well-doing; and they who are the most per- 
sistent, and work in the truest spirit, will usually be the 
anost successful. 

33 1 



332 Sir Isaac Newton* 

Fortune has often been blamed for her blindness ; but 
fortune is not so blind as men are. Those who look 
into practical life will find that fortune is usually on the 
side of the industrious, as the winds and waves are on 
the side of the best navigators. In the pursuit of even 
the highest branches of human inquiry, the commoner 
qualities are found the most useful — such as common 
sense, attention, application, and perseverance. Genius 
may not be necessary, though even genius of the high- 
est sort does not disdain the use of these ordinary quali- 
ties. The very greatest men have been among the 
least believers in the power of genius, and as worldly 
wise and persevering as successful men of the common- 
er sort. Some have even defined genius to be only 
common sense intensified. A distinguished teacher and 
president of a college spoke of it as the power of mak- 
ing efforts. John Foster held it to be the power of 
lighting one's own fire. Buffon said of genius, "It is 
patience. " 

Newton's was unquestionably a mind of the very 
highest order, and yet, when asked by what means he 
had worked out his extraordinary discoveries, he mod- 
estly answered, " By always thinking unto them.' 1 At 
another time he thus expressed his method of study : " I 
keep the subject continually before me, and wait till 
the first dawnings open slowly by little and little into a 
full and clear light. 1 ' It was in Newton's case as in 
every other, only by diligent application and perseve- 
rance that his great reputation was achieved. Even 



Application and Perseverance. 333 

his recreation consisted in change of study, laying down 
one subject to take up another. To Dr. Bentley he 
said: " If I have done the public any service, it is due 
to nothing but industry and patient thought." So Kep- 
ler, another great philosopher, speaking of his studies 
and his progress, said: " As in Virgil, ' Fama mobili- 
tate viget, vires acquirit eundo,'' so it was with me, that 
the diligent thought on these things was the occasion 
of further thinking; until at last I brooded with the 
whole energy of my mind upon the subject." 

The extraordinary results effected by dint of sheer in- 
dustry and perseverance, ha\^e led many distinguished 
men to doubt whether the gift of genius be so excep- 
tional an endowment as it is usually supposed to be. 
Thus Voltaire held that it is only a very slight line of 
separation that divides the man of genius from the man 
of ordinary mould, Beccaria was even of opinion that 
all men might be poets and orators, and Reynolds that 
they might be painters and sculptors. If this were 
really so, that stolid Englishman might not have been 
so very far wrong after all, who, in Canova's death, in- 
quired of his brother whether it was " his intention to 
carry on the business!" Locke, Helvetius,and Diderot 
believed that all men have an equal aptitude for genius, 
and that what some are able to effect under the laws 
which regulate the operations of the intellect, must 
also be within the reach of others who, under like cir- 
cumstances, apply themselves to like pursuits. But 
while admitting to the fullest extent the wonderful 



334 Application and Perseverance. 

achievements of labor, and recognizing the fact that 
men of the most distinguished genius have invariably 
been found the most indefatigable workers, it must nev- 
ertheless be sufficiently obvious that, without the orig- 
inal endowment of heart and brain, no amount of labor, 
however well applied, could have produced a Shaks- 
peare, a Newton, a Beethoven, or a Michael Angelo. 

Dalton, the chemist, repudiated the notion of his 
being " a genius," attributing every thing which he had 
accomplished to simple industry and accumulation. 
John Hunter said of himself, " My mind is like a bee- 
hive; but full as it is of buzz and apparent confusion, it 
is yet full of order and regularity, and food collected 
with incessant industry from the choicest stores of na- 
ture." We have, indeed, but to glance at the biogra- 
phies of great men to find that the most distinguished 
inventors, artists, thinkers, and workers of all kinds, 
owe their success, in a great measure to their indefati- 
gable industry and application. They were men who 
turned all things to gold — even time itself. Disraeli 
the elder held that the secret of success consisted in 
being master of your subject, such master} 7 being at- 
tainable only through continuous application and study. 
Hence it happens that the men who have most moved 
the world, have not been so much men of genius, strict ^ 
ly so called, as men of intense mediocre abilities, and 
untiring perseverance; not so often the gifted, of nat- 
urally bright and shining qualities, as those who have 
applied themselves diligently to their work, in whatso- 



Anecdote of Sir Robert Peel. 335 

ever line that might lie. '■ Alas!" said a widow, speak- 
ing of her brilliant but careless son, " he has not the 
gift of continuance." Wanting in perseverance, such 
volatile natures are outstripped in the race of life by 
the diligent and even the dull. " Che va piano, va 
longano, e valontano," says the Italian proverb: Who 
goes slowly, goes long, and goes far. 

Hence, a great point to be aimed at is to get the 
working quality well trained. When that is done the 
race will be found comparatively easy. We must re- 
peat and again repeat; facility will come with labor. 
Not even the simplest art can be accomplished without 
it; and what difficulties it is found capable of achiev- 
ing! It was by early discipline and repetition that 
the late Sir Robert Peel cultivated those remarkable r 
though still mediocre powers, which rendered him so 
illustrious an ornament of the British Senate. When 
a boy at Drayton Manor, his father was accustomed to 
set him up at table to practice speaking extempore; 
and he early accustomed him to repeat as much of the 
Sunday's sermon as he could remember. Little prog- 
ress was made at first, but by steady perseverance 
the habit of attention became powerful, and the ser- 
mon was at length repeated almost verbatim. When 
afterwards replying in succession to the arguments of 
his parliamentary opponents— an art in which he was 
perhaps unrivaled — it was little surmised that the ex- 
traordinary power of accurate remembrance which he 
displayed on such occasions had been originally trained 



336 Continuous Application. 

4 

under the discipline of his father in the parish church 
of Drayton 

It is indeed marvellous what continuous application 
will effect in the commonest of things. It may seem a 
simple affair to play upon a violin; yet what a long 
and laborious practice it requires! Giardini said to a 
youth who asked him how long it would take to learn 
it, " Twelve hours a day for twenty years together." 
Industry, it is said, fait Pours danser. The poor figu- 
rante must devote years of incessant toil to her profit- 
less task before she can shine in it. When Taglioni 
was preparing herself for her evening exhibition, she 
would, after a severe two hours' lesson from her father, 
fall down exhausted, and had to be undressed, sponged, 
and resuscitated, totally unconscious. The agility and 
bounds of the evening were insured only at a price like 
this. 

Progress, however, of the best kind, is comparatively 
slow. Great results can not be achieved at once; and 
we must be satisfied to advance in life as we walk, step 
by step. DeMaistre says that u To know how to wait 
is the great secret of success. We must sow before 
we can reap, and often have to wait long, content 
meanwhile to look patiently forward in hope; the fruit 
best worth waiting for often ripening the slowest. But 
" Time and patience," says the Eastern proverb, 
"change the mulberry leaf to satin." 

To wait patiently, however, men must work cheer- 
fully. Cheerfulness is an excellent working quality, 



Cheerfulness. 337 

imparting great elasticity to the character. As a bishop 
has said, "Temper is nine-tenths of Christianity;" so 
are cheerfulness and diligence nine-tenths oi practical 
wisdom. They are the life and soul of success, as well 
as of happiness; perhaps the very highest pleasure in 
life consisting in clear, brisk, conscious working; ener- 
gy, confidence, and every other good quality mainly 
depending upon it. Sydney Smith, when laboring as a 
parish priest at Foston-le-Clay, in Yorkshire — though 
he did not feel himself to be in his proper element — 
went cheerfully to work in the firm determination to 
do his best. " I am resolved," he said, " to like it, and 
reconcile myself to it, which is more manly than to 
feign myself above it, and to send up complaints by 
the post of being thrown away, and being desolate, 
and such like trash." So Dr. Hook, when leaving 
Leeds for a new sphere of labor, said, " Wherever I 
may be, I shall, by God's blessing, do with my might 
what my hand findeth to do ; and if I do not find work, 
I shall make it." 

Laborers for the public good especially, have to work 
long and patiently, often uncheered by the prospect of 
immediate recompense or result. The seeds they sow 
sometimes lie hidden under the winter's snow, and be- 
fore the spring comes the husbandman may have gone 
to his rest. It is not every public worker, who like 
Rowland Hill, sees his great idea bring forth fruit in 
his lifetime. Adam Smith sowed the seeds of a great 
social amelioration in that dingy old University of 

22 



338 Hope — William Carey. 

Glasgow where he so long labored, and laid the founda 
tions of his "Wealth of Nations ;" but seventy years 
passed before his work bore substantial fruits, nor indeed 
are they all gathered in yet. 

Nothing can compensate for the loss of hope in a man : 
it entirely changes the character. " How can I work — 
how can I be happy," said a great but miserable think- 
er, "when I. have lost all hope?" One of the most 
cheerful and courageous, because one of the most hope- 
ful of workers, was Carey, the missionary. When in 
India, it was no uncommon thing for him to weary out 
three pundits, who officiated as his clerks, in one day, 
he himself taking rest only in change of employment. 
Carey, the son of a shoemaker, was supported in his 
labors by Ward, the Son of a carpenter, and Marsham, 
the son of a weaver. By their labors a magnificent 
college was erected at Serampore; sixteen flourishing 
stations were established; the Bible was translated 
into sixteen languages, and the seeds were sown of a 
beneficent moral revolution in British India. Carey 
was never ashamed of the humbleness of his origin. On 
one occasion, when at the Governor- General's table he 
overheard an officer opposite him asking another, loud 
enough to be heard, whether Carey had not once been a 
shoemaker: " No, Sir," exclaimed Carey immediately; 
only a cobbler." An eminently characteristic anecdote 
has been told of his perseverance as a boy. When 
climbing a tree one day, his foot slipped, and he fell to 
the ground, breaking his leg by the fall. He was con- 



Dr. Young — Audubon. 339 

lined to his bed for weeks, but when he recovered and 
was able to walk without support , the very first thing 
he did was to go and climb that tree. Carey had need 
of this sort of dauntless courage for the great mission- 
ary work of his life, and nobly and resolutely he did it. 

It was a maxim of Dr. Young, the philosopher, that 
" Any man can do what any other man has done;" and 
it is unquestionable that he himself never recoiled from 
any trials to which he determined to subject himself. 
It is related of him, that the first time he mounted a 
horse he was in company with the grandson of Mr. 
Barclay, of Ury, the well-know sportsman, when the 
horseman who preceded them leaped a high fence. 
Young wished to imitate him, but fell off his horse in 
the attempt. Without saying a word, he remounted, 
made a second effort, and was again unsuccessful, but 
this time he was not thrown farther than on to the 
horse's neck, to which he clung. At the third trial he 
succeeded, and cleared the fence. 

The story of Timour the Tartar learning a lesson of 
perseverance under adversity from the spider is well- 
known. Not less interesting is the anecdote of Audu- 
bon, the American ornithologist, as related by himself: 
" An accident," he says, " which happened to two 
hundred of my original drawings, nearly put a stop to 
my researches in ornithology. I shall relate it, merely 
to show how far enthusiasm — for by no other name can 
I call my perseverance — may enable the preserver of 
nature to surmount the most disheartening difficulties. 



340 Audubon. 

I left the village of Henderson, in Kentucky, situated 
on the banks of the Ohio, where I resided for several 
years, to proceed to Philadelphia on business. I looked 
to my drawings before my departure, placed them care- 
fully in a wooden box, and gave them in charge of a 
relative, with injunctions to see that no injury should 
happen to them. My absence was of several months; 
and when I returned, after having enjoyed the pleasures 
of home for a few days, I inquired after my box, and 
what I was pleased to call my treasure. The box was 
produced and opened; but, reader, feel for me — a pair 
of Norway rats had taken possession of the whole, and 
reared a young family among the gnawed bits of paper, 
which, but a month previous, represented nearly a 
thousand inhabitants of air! The burning heat which 
instantly rushed through my brain was too great to 
be endured without affecting my whole nervous system. 
I slept for several nights, and the days passed like days 
of oblivion — until the animal powers being recalled 
into action through the strength of my constitution, I 
took up my gun, my note-book and my pencils, and 
went forth in the woods as gayly as if nothing had 
happened. I felt pleased that I might now make 
better drawings than before; and, ere a period not 
exceeding three years had elapsed, my portfolio was 
again filled." 

The accidental destruction of Sir Isaac Newton's 
papers, by his little dog " Diamond " upsetting a 
lighted taper upon his desk, by which the elaborate cal- 



Newton. 341 

culatons of many years were in a moment destroyed, 
is a well-known anecdote, and need not be repeated: it 
is said that the loss caused the philosopher such pro- 
found grief that it seriously injured his health, and 
impaired his understanding. An accident of a some- 
what similar kind happened to the manuscript of Mr. 
Carlyle's first volume of his " French Revolution." 
He had lent the manuscript to a literary neighbor to 
peruse. By some mischance, it had been left lying on 
the parlor floor, and become forgotten. Weeks ran on, 
and the historian sent for his work, the printers being 
loud for " copy." Inquiries were made, and it was found 
that the maid-of-all-work, finding what she conceived to 
be a bundle of waste paper on the floor, had used it to 
light the kitchen and parlor fires with! Such was the 
answer returned to Mr. Carlyle; and his feelings may 
be imagined. There was, however, no help for him but 
to set resolutely to work to rewrite the book; and he 
turned to and did it. He had no draft, and was com- 
pelled to rake up from his memory facts, ideas, and 
expressions which had been long since dismissed. The 
composition of the book in the first instance had been a 
work of pleasure; the re- writing of it a second time 
was one of pain and anguish almost beyond belief. 
That he persevered and finished the volume under such 
circumstances, affords an instance of determination of 
purpose which has seldom been surpassed. 

The lives of eminent inventors are eminently illus- 
trative of the same quality of perseverance. George 



34:2 Eminent Inventors. 

Stephenson, when addressing young men, was accus- 
tomed to sum up his best advice to them in the words, 
"Do as I have done — persevere." He had worked at 
the improvement of his locomotive for some fifteen 
years before achieving his decisive victory at Rainhill; 
and Watt was engaged for some thirty years upon the 
condensing-engine before he brought it to perfection. 
But there are equally striking illustrations of persever- 
ance to be found in every other branch of science, art, 
and industry. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE. 

Comte de Buffon as Student. — Genius is Patience. — His Continuous and 
Unremitting Labors. — Sir Walter Scott's Perseverance. — His Working 
Qualities. — His Punctuality. 

"Love, therefore, labor: if thou shouldst not want it for food, thou may'st 
for physic. It is wholesome to the body, and good for the mind : it prevents 
the fruit of idleness." — William Penn. 

/TV HE career of the Comte de Buffon presents another 
-■- remarkable illustration of the power of patient 
industry, as well as his own saying, that " Genius is 
patience." Notwithstanding the great results achieved 
by him in natural history, BurTon, when a youth, was 
regarded as of mediocre talents. His mind was slow 
in forming itself, and slow in reproducing what it had 
acquired. He was also constitutionally indolent; and 
being born to good estate, it might be supposed that he 
would indulge his liking for ease and luxury. Instead 
■of which, he early formed the resolution of denying 
himself pleasure, and devoting himself to study and self- 
culture. Regarding time as a treasure that was limited, 
and finding that he was losing many hours by lying 
abed in the mornings, he determined to break himself 

343 



344 Buffon s Laziness. 

of the habit. He struggled hard against it for some 
time, but failed in being able to rise at the hour he had 
fixed. He then called his servant Joseph, to his help, 
and promised him the reward of a crown every time 
that he succeeded in getting him up before six. At 
first, when called, Buffon declined to rise — pleaded that 
he was ill, or pretended anger at being disturbed ; and 
on the Count at length getting up, Joseph found that he 
had earned nothing but reproaches for having permitted 
his master to lie abed contrary to his express orders. 
At length the valet determined to earn his crown; and 
again and again he forced Buffon to rise, notwithstand- 
ing his entreaties, expostulations, and threats of imme- 
diate discharge from his service. One morning Buffon 
was unusually obstinate, and Joseph found it necessary 
to resort to the extreme measure of dashing a basin of 
ice-cold water under the bed-clothes, the effect of which 
was instantaneous. By the persistent use of such 
means, Buffon at length conquered his habit ; and he was 
accustomed to say, that he owed to Joseph three or four 
volumes of his Natural History. 

For forty years of his life, Buffon worked every morn- 
ing at his desk from nine till two, and again in the even- 
ing from five to nine. His diligence was so continuous 
and so regular that it became habitual. His biographer 
has said of him, " Work was his necessity; his studies 
were the charm of his life; and towards the last term 
of his glorious career he frequently said that Jie still 
hoped to be able to consecrate to them a few more 



Buffon a Conscientious Worker. 345 

years." He was a most conscientious worker, always 
studying to give the reader his best thoughts, expres- 
sed in the very best manner. . He was never wearied 
with touching and retouching his compositions, so that 
his style may be pronounced almost perfect. He wrote 
the " Epoques de la Nature" not fewer than eleven 
times before he was satisfied with it; although he had 
thought over the Work about fifty years. He was a 
thorough man of business, most orderly in every thing; 
and he was accustomed to say that genius without or- 
der lost three-fourths of its power. His great success 
as a writer was the result mainly of his pains-taking 
labor and diligent application. "Buffon," observed 
Madame Necker, " strongly persuaded that genius is 
the result of a profound attention directed to a particu- 
lar subject, said that he was thoroughly wearied out 
when composing his first writings, but compelled him- 
self to return to them and go over them carefully again, 
even when he thought he had already brought them to 
a certain degree of perfection; and that at length he 
found pleasure instead of weariness in this long and 
elaborate correction."' 1 It ought also to be added that 
Buffon wrote and published all his great works while 
afflicted by one of the most painful diseases to which 
the human frame is subject. 

Literary life affords abundant illustrations of the 
same power of perseverance; and perhaps no career is 
more instructive, viewed in this light, than that of Sir 
Walter Scott. His admirable working qualities were 



346 Sir Walter Scott 

trained in a lawyer's office, where he pursued for many 
years a sort of drudgery scarcely above that of a copy- 
ing clerk. His daily dull routine made his evenings, 
which were his own, all the more sweet ; and he gener- 
ally devoted them to reading and study. He himself 
attributed to his prosaic office discipline that habit of 
steady, sober diligence, in which mere literary men are 
so often found wanting. As a copying clerk he was 
allowed 3d. for every page containing a certain number 
of words; and he sometimes, by extra work, was able 
to copy as many as 120 pages in twenty-four hours, 
thus earning some 305.; out of which he would occa- 
sionally purchase an odd volume, otherwise beyond his 
means. 

During his after-life Scott was wont to pride himself 
upon being a man of business, and he averred, in con- 
tradiction to what he called the cant of sonnetteers, 
that there was no necessary connection between genius 
and an aversion or contempt for the common duties of 
life. On the contrary, he was of opinion that to spend 
some fair portion of every day in any matter-of-fact 
occupation was good for the higher faculties themselves 
in the upshot. While afterwards acting as clerk to the 
Court of Sessions in Edinburg, he performed his literary 
work chiefly before breakfast, attending the court dur- 
ing the day, where he authenticated registered deeds 
and writings of various kinds. " On the whole, 17 says 
Lockhart, " it forms one of the most remarkable features 
in his history, that throughout the most active period 



Scott's Punctuality 347 

of his literary career, he must have devoted a large 
proportion of his hours, during half at least of every 
3 T ear, to the conscientious discharge of professional du- 
ties." It was a principle of action which he laid down 
for himself, that he must earn his living by business, 
and not by literature. On one occasion he said, " I de- 
termined that literature should be my staff, not my 
crutch, and that the profits of my literary labor, how- 
ever convenient otherwise, should not, if I could help it, 
become necessary to my ordinary expenses." 

His punctuality was one of the most carefully culti- 
vated of his habits, otherwise it had not been possible 
for him to get through so enormous an amount of liter- 
ary labor. He made it a rule to answer every letter 
received by him on the same day, except where inquiry 
and deliberation were requisite. Nothing else could 
have enabled him to keep abreast with the flood of 
communications that poured in upon him and sometimes 
put his good-nature to the severest test. It was his 
practice to rise by five o'clock and light his own fire. 
He shaved and dressed with deliberation, and was seated 
at his desk by six o'clock, with his papers arranged 
before him in the most accurate order, his works of ref- 
erence marshalled round him on the floor, while at least 
one favorite dog lay watching his eye, outside the line 
of books. Thus by the time the family assembled for 
breakfast, between nine and ten, he had done enough — 
to use his own words — to break the neck of the day's 
work. But with all his diligent and indefatigable indus- 



348 Samuel Drew. 

try, and his immense knowledge, the result of many 
years' patient labor, Scott always* spoke with the great- 
est diffidence of his own powers. On one occasion he 
said, " Throughout every part of my career I have felt 
pinched and hampered by my own ignorance. 11 

Such is true wisdom and humility; for the more a 
man really knows, the less conceited he will be. The 
student at Trinity College who went up to his professor 
to take leave of him because he had " finished his edu- 
cation, 11 was wisely rebuked by the professor's reply, 
"Indeed! I am only beginning mine. 11 The superficial 
person, who has obtained a smattering of many things 
but knows nothing well, may pride himself upon his 
gifts; but the sage humbly confesses that " all he knows 
is, that he knows nothing, 11 or, like Newton, that he 
has been only engaged in picking shells by the sea-shore 
while the great ocean of truth lies all unexplored before 
him. 

The career of Samuel Drew is not less remarkable 
than any of those which we have cited. His father was 
a hard-working laborer of the parish of St. Austell, in 
Cornwall. Though poor, he contrived to send his two 
sons to a penny-a-week school in the neighborhood. 
Jabez, the elder, took delight in learning, and made 
great progress in his lessons; but Samuel, the younger, 
was a dunce, notoriously given to mischief and playing 
truant. When about eight years old he was put to 
manual labor, earning three halfpence a day as a bud- 
dle-boy at a tin-mine. At ten he was apprenticed to a 



fi el D 349 

shoemaker, and while in this employment he endured 
much hardship — living, as he used to say, '-like a toad 
under a harrow," He often thought of running away 
and becoming a pirate, or something of the sort, and he 
seems :o have grown in recklessness as he grew in years. 
In robbing orchards, he was usually a leader; and, as 
he grew older, he delighted to take part in any poach- 
ing or smugglinc: adventure. When about seventeen, 
: re his apprenticeship was out, he ran away, intend- 
ing to enter on board a man-of-war: but, sleeping in a 
hay-rleld at night cooled him a little, and he returned 
to his trade. 

Drew next removed to the neighborhood of Plymouth 
to work at his shoemaking business, and while at Caw- 
sand he won a prize for cudgel-playing, in which he 
seems to have been an adept. While living there, he 
had nearly lost his life in a smuggling exploit which he 
had joined, partly induced by the love of adventure, 
and partly by the love of gain, for his regular wages 
were not more than eight shillings a week. One night, 
notice was given throughout Crafthole, that a smuggler 
was off the coast, ready to land her cargo; on which 
the male population of the place — nearly all smugglers 
— made for the shore. One party remained on the rocks 
to make signals and dispose of the goods as they were 
landed, and another manned the boats, Drew being of 
the latter party. The night was intensely dark, and 
very little of the cargo had been landed, when the wind 
rose, with a heavv sea. The men in the boats, how- 



350 Smuggling Adventure. 

ever, determined to persevere, and several trips were 
made between the smuggler, now standing farther out 
to sea, and the shore. One of the men in the boat in 
which Drew was, had his hat blown off by the wind, 
and in attempting to recover it, the boat was upset. 
Three of the men were immediately drowned; the 
others clung to the boat for a time, but finding it drift- 
ing out to sea, they took to swimming. They were two 
miles from land, and the night was intensely dark. 
After being about three hours in the water, Drew 
reached a rock near the shore, with one or two others, 
where he remained benumbed with cold till morning, 
when he and his companions were discovered and taken 
off, more dead than alive. A keg of brandy from the 
cargo just landed was brought, the head knocked in 
with a hatchet, and a bowlful of the liquid presented to 
the survivors; and, shortly after, Drew was able to walk 
two miles through deep snow, to his lodgings. 

This was a very unpromising beginning of a life; and 
yet this same Drew, scapegrace, orchard-robber, shoe- 
maker, cudgel player, and smuggler, outlived the reck- 
lessness of his youth, and became distinguished as a 
minister of the Gospel and a writer of good books. 
Happily, before it was too late, the energy which char- 
acterized him was turned into a more healthy direction, 
and rendered him as eminent in usefulness as he had 
before been in wickedness. His father again took him 
back to St. Austell, and found employment for him as 
a journeyman shoemaker. Perhaps his recent escape 



Samuel Drew. 351 

from death had tended to make the young man serious, 
as we shortly find him, attracted by the forcible preach* 
ing of Dr. Adam Clarke, a minister of the Wesleyan 
Methodists. His brother having died about the same 
time the impression of seriousness was deepened; and 
thenceforward he was an altered man He began anew 
the work of education, for he had almost forgotten how 
to read and write, and even after several year's prac- 
tice, a friend compared his writing to the traces of a 
spider dipped in ink set to crawl upon paper. Speak- 
ing of himself, about that time, Drew afterwards said, 
" The more I read, the more I felt my own ignorance; 
and the more I felt my ignorance, the more invincible 
became my energy to surmount it. Every leisure 
moment was now employed in reading one thing or 
another. Having to support myself by manual labor, 
my time for reading was but little, and to overcome this 
disadvantage, my usual method was to place a book 
before me while at meat, and at every repast I read 
five or six pages." The perusal of Locke's "Essay on 
the Understanding " gave the first metaphysical turn 
to his mind. " It awakened me from my stupor," said 
he, "and induced me to form a resolution to abandon 
the groveling views which I had been accustomed to 
entertain.' 1 

Drew began business on his own account with a cap- 
ital of a few shillings, but his character for steadiness 
was such that a neighboring miller offered him a loan, 
which was accepted, and, success attending his indus- 



352 Samuel Drew, Student. 

try, the debt was repaid at the end of a year. He 
started with a determination to " owe no man any 
thing," and he held to it in the midst of many priva- 
tions. Often he went to bed supperless, to avoid rising 
in debt. His ambition was to achieve independence 
by industry and economy, and in this he gradually suc- 
ceeded. In the midst of incessant labor, he sedulously 
strove to improve his mind, studying astronomy, his- 
tory, and metaphysics. He was induced to pursue the 
latter study chiefly because it required fewer books to 
consult than either of the others. "It appeared to be a 
thorny path," he said, "but I determined, nevertheless, 
to enter, and accordingly began to tread it." 

Added to his labors in shoemaking and metaphysics, 
Drew became a local preacher and a class-leader. He 
took an eager interest in politics, and his shop became 
a favorite resort with the village politicians. And 
when they did not come to him, he went to them to 
talk over public affairs. This so encroached upon his 
time that he found it necessar} T sometimes to work 
until midnight to make up for the hours lost during the 
day. His political fervor became the talk of the 
village. While busy one night hammering away at a 
shoe-sole, a little boy, seeing a light in the shop, put his 
mouth to the keyhole of the door, and called out in a 
shrill pipe, "Shoemaker! shoemaker! work by night 
and run about by day!" A friend to whom Drew 
afterwards told the story, asked, " And did not you run 
after the boy and strap him?" "No, no," was the 



Samuel Drew, Metaphysician. 353 

reply: " had a pistol been fired off at my ear, I could 
not have been more dismayed or confounded. I dropped 
my work, and said to myself, ' True, true ! but you shall 
never have that to say of me again.' To me that cry 
was as the voice of God, and it has been a word in 
season throughout my life. I learnt from it not to leave 
till to-morrow the work of to-day, or to idle when I 
ought to be working." 

From that moment Drew dropped politics, and stuck 
to his work, reading and studying in his spare hours; 
but he never allowed the latter pursuit to interfere with 
his business, though it frequently broke in upon his rest. 
He married, and thought of emigrating to America; 
but he remained working on. His literary taste first 
took the direction of political composition; and from 
some of the fragments which have been preserved, it 
appears that his speculations as to the immateriality 
and immortality of the soul had their origin in these 
poetical musings. His study was the kitchen, where 
his wife's bellows served him for a desk; and he wrote 
amidst the cries and cradlings of his children. Paine's 
" Age of Reason " having appeared about this time and 
excited much interest, he composed a pamphlet in refu- 
tation of its arguments, which was published. He used 
afterwards to say that it was the " Age of Reason " 
that made him an author. Various pamphlets from his 
pen shortly appeared in rapid succession, and a few 
years later, while still working at shoemaking, he wrote 
and published his admirable " Essay on the Immaterial- 
2 3 



354 Samuel Drew. 

ity and Immortality of the Human soul," which he sold 
for twenty pounds, a great sum in his estimation at the 
time. The book went through many editions and is 
still prized. 

Drew was in no wise puffed up by his success, as 
many young authors are, but long after he had become 
celebrated as a writer, used to be seen sweeping the 
street before his door, or helping his apprentices to 
carry in the winter's coals. Nor, could he for some 
time, bring himself to regard literature as a profession 
to live by. His first care was to secure an honest live- 
lihood by his business, and to put into the "lottery of 
literary success," as he termed it, only the surplus of 
his time. At length, however, he devoted himself 
wholly to literature, more particularly in connection 
with the Wesleyan body; editing one of their magazines, 
and superintending the publication of several of their 
denominational works. He also wrote in the " Eclectic 
Review," and compiled and published a valuable history 
of his native county, Cornwall, with numerous other 
works. Toward the close of his career, he said to him- 
self — " Raised from one of the lowest stations in society, 
I have endeavored through life to bring my family into 
a state of respectability, by honest industry, frugality, 
and a high regard for my moral character. Divine 
providence has smiled on my exertions, and crowned 
my wishes with success." 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE GREAT POTTER PALISSY. 



Ancient Pottery. — Bernard Palissy: Sketch of His Life and Labors.— 
Inflamed by the Sight of an Italian Cup. — His Experiments During 
Years of Unproductive Toil. — Indomitable Perseverance; Burns His 
Furniture to Heat the Furnace, and Success at Last. — Reduced to Desti- 
tution. — Condemned to Death, and Released. — His Writings. — Dies in 
the Bastille. 

"Patience is the finest and worthiest part of fortitude, and the rarest 
too. . . Patience lies at the root of all pleasures, as well as of all powers. 
Hope herself ceases to be happiness when Impatience companions her." — 
John Ruskin. 



f~T so happens that the history of Pottery furnishes some 
-*- of the most remarkable instances of patient perse- 
verance to be found in the whole range of biography. 
Of these we select three of the most striking, as exhib- 
ited in the lives of Bernard Palissy, the Frenchman; 
Johann Friedrich Bottgher, the German; and Josiah 
Wedgwood, the Englishman. 

Though the art of making common vessels of clay 
was known to most of the ancient nations, that of man- 
ufacturing enamelled earthenware was much less com- 
mon. It was, however, practiced by the ancient Etrus- 
cans, specimens of Whose ware are still to be found in 
antiquarian collections. But it became a lost art, and 

355 



356 Ancient Pottery. 

was only recovered at a comparatively recent date. 
The Etruscan ware was very valuable in ancient times, 
a vase being worth its weight in gold in the time of 
Augustus. The Moors seem to have preserved amongst 
them a knowledge of the art, which they were found 
practicing in the island of Majorca when it was taken 
by the Pisans in 1115. Among the spoil carried away 
were many plates of Moorish earthenware, which in 
token of triumph, were embedded in the walls of sever- 
al of the ancient churches of Pisa, where they are to be 
seen to this day. About two centuries later, the Ital- 
ians began to make an imitation enamelled ware, which 
they named Majolica, after the Moorish place of manu- 
facture 

The reviver or re-discoverer of the art of enamelling 
in Italy was Luca della Robbia, a Florentine sculptor. 
Vasari describes him as a man of indefatigable perse- 
verance, working with his chisel all day and practicing 
drawing during the greater part of the night. He pur- 
sued the latter art with so much assiduity, that when 
working late, to prevent his feet from freezing with the 
cold, he was accustomed to provide himself with a bas- 
ket ot shavings, in which he placed them to keep him- 
self warm and enable him to proceed with his drawings. 
" Nor," says Vasari, " am I in the least astonished at 
this, since no man ever becomes distinguished in any 
art whatsoever who does not early begin to acquire the 
power of supporting heat, cold, hunger, thirst, and oth- 
er discomforts; whereas those persons deceive them- 



Luca della Robbia. 357 

selves altogether who suppose that when taking their 
ease and surrounded by all the enjoyments of the world 
they may still attain to honorable distinction — for it is 
not by sleeping, but by waking, watching, and laboring 
continually, that proficiency is attained and reputation 
acquired." 

But Luca, notwithstanding all his application and 
industry, did not succeed in earning enough money by 
sculpture to enable him to live by the art, and the idea 
occurred to him that he might nevertheless be able to 
pursue his modelling in some material more facile and 
less dear than marble. Hence it was that he began to 
make his models in clay, and to endeavor by experiment 
to so coat and bake the clay as to render those models 
durable. After many trials he at length discovered a 
method of covering the clay with a material, which, 
when exposed to the intense heat of a furnace, became 
converted into an almost imperishable enamel. He 
afterwards made the further discovery of a method of 
imparting color to the enamel, thus greatly adding to 
its beauty. 

The fame of Luca's work extended throughout Eu- 
rope, and specimens of his art became widely diffused. 
Many of them were sent into France and Spain, where 
they were greatly prized. At that time coarse brown 
jars and pipkins were almost the only articles of earth- 
enware produced in France; and this continued to be 
the case, with comparatively small improvement, until 
the time of Palissy — a man who toiled and fought 



358 Bernard Palissy. 

against stupendous difficulties with a heroism that 
sheds a glow almost of romance over the events of his 
chequered life. 

Bernard Palissy is supposed to have been born in the 
south of France, in the diocese of Agen, about the year 
1 510. His father was probably a worker in glass, 
to which trade Bernard was brought up. His parents 
were poor people — too poor to give him the benefit of 
any school education, "I had no other books, 1 ' said he 
afterwards, " than heaven and earth, which are open to 
all." He learnt, however, the art of glass-painting, to 
which he added that of drawing, and afterwards read- 
ing and writing. 

When about eighteen years old, the glass trade be- 
coming decayed, Palissy left his father's house, with 
his wallet on his back, and went out into the world to 
search whether there was any place in it for him. Fie 
first traveled towards Gascony, working at his trade 
where he could find employment, and occasionally oc- 
cupying part of his time in land-measuring. Then he 
traveled northwards, sojourning for various periods at 
different places in France, Flanders, and Lower Ger- 
many. 

Thus Palissy occupied about ten more years of his 
life, after which he married, and ceased from his wan- 
derings, settling down to practice glass-painting and 
land-measuring at the small town of Saintes, in the 
Lower Charente. Three children were born to him; 
and not only his responsibilities but his expenses increas- 



JSearch for the Enamel. 359 

<ed, while, do what he could, his earnings remained too 
small for his needs. It was therefore necessary for him 
to bestir himself. Probably he felt capable of better 
things than drudging in an employment so precarious 
as glass-painting; and hence he was induced to turn his 
attention to the kindred art of painting and enamelling 
earthenware. Yet on this subject he was wholly igno- 
rant; for he had never seen earth baked before he be- 
gan his operations. He had therefore every thing to 
learn by himself, without any helper. But he was full 
of hope, eager to learn, of unbounded perseverance and 
inexhaustible patience. 

It was the sight of an elegant cup of Italian manufac- 
ture — most probably one of Luca della Robbia's make 
— which first set Palissy a thinking about the new art. 
A circumstance so apparently insignificant would have 
produced no effect upon an ordinary mind, or even upon 
Palissy himself at an ordinary time; but occurring as 
it did when he was meditating a change of calling, he 
at once became inflamed with the desire of imitating it. 
The sight of this cup disturbed his whole existence; 
and the determination to discover the enamel with 
which it was glazed thenceforward possessed him like 
a passion. Had he been a single man he might have 
traveled into Italy in search of the secret; but he was 
bound to his wife and his children, and could not leave 
them; so he remained by their side groping in the dark, 
in the hope of finding out the process of making and 
enamelling earthenware. 



360 Experiments- 

At first he could merely guess the materials of which 
the enamel was composed, and he proceeded to try all 
manner of experiments to ascertain what they really 
were. He pounded all the substances which he sup- 
posed were likely to produce it. Then he bought com- 
mon earthen pots, broke them into pieces, and, spread- 
ing his compounds over them, subjected them to the 
heat of a furnace which he erected for the purpose of 
baking them. His experiments failed; and the results 
were broken pots and a waste of fuel, drugs, time, and 
labor. Women do not readily sympathize with experi- 
ments whose only tangible effect is to dissipate the 
means of buying clothes and food for their children; 
and Palissy 's wife, however dutiful in other respects^ 
could not be reconciled to the purchase of more earth- 
en pots, which seemed to her to be bought only to be 
broken. Yet she must needs submit; for Palissy had 
become thoroughly possesed by the determination to 
master the secret of the enamel, and would not leave it 
alone. 

For many successive months and years Palissy pur- 
sued his experiments. The first furnace having proved 
a failure, he proceeded to erect another out of doors. 
There he burnt more wood, spoiled more drugs and 
pots, and lost more time, until poverty stared him and 
his family in the face. " Thus," said he, " I fooled away 
several years, with sorrow and sighs, because I could 
not at all arrive at my intention.' ' In the intervals of 
his experiments he occasionally worked at his former 



Bernard Palissy. 361 

callings — painting on glass, drawing portraits, and meas- 
uring land; but his earnings from these sources were 
very small. At length he was no longer able to carry 
on his experiments in his own furnace because of the 
heavy cost of fuel ; but he bought more potsherds, broke 
them up as before into three or four hundred pieces, and, 
covering them with chemicals, carried them to a tile- 
work a league and a half distant from Saintes, there to 
be baked in an ordinary furnace. After the operation 
he went to see the pieces taken out ; \and, to his dismay, 
the whole of the experiments were failures. But though 
disappointed, he was not yet defeated ; for he determined 
on the very spot to " begin afresh." 

His business as a land-measurer called him away for 
a brief season from the pursuit of his experiments. In 
conformity with an edict of the State, it became neces- 
sary to survey the salt-marshes in the neighborhood of 
Saintes for the purpose of levying the land-tax. Palissy 
was employed to take this survey, and prepare the 
requisite map. The work occupied some time, and 
he was doubtless well paid for it; but no sooner was it 
completed than he proceeded, with redoubled zeal, to 
follow up his old investigations " in the track of the 
enamels." He began by breaking three dozen new 
earthen pots, the pieces of which he covered with differ- 
ent materials which he had compounded, and then took 
them to a neighboring glass-furnace to be baked. The 
results gave him a glimmer of hope. The greater heat 
of the glass-furnace had melted some of the compounds:. 



362 Search for the Enamel. 

but though Palissy searched diligently for the white 
enamel he could find none. 

For two more years he went on experimenting with- 
out any satisfactory results, until the proceeds of his 
survey of the salt-marshes having become nearly spent, 
he was reduced to poverty again. But he resolved to 
make a last great effort; and he began by breaking 
more pots than ever. More than three hundred pieces 
of pottery covered with his compounds were sent to the 
glass-furnace; and thither he himself went to watch the 
results of the baking. Four hours passed, during which 
he watched; and then the furnace was opened. The 
material on one only of the three hundred pieces of 
potsherd had melted, and it was taken out to cool. As 
it hardened, it grew white — white and polished! The 
piece of potsherd was covered with white enamel, 
described by Palissy as " singularly beautiful I" And 
beautiful it must no doubt have been in his eyes after 
all his weary waiting. He ran home with it to his 
wife, feeling himself, as he expressed it, quite a new 
creature. But the prize was not yet won — far from it. 
The partial success of his intended last effort merely 
had the effect of luring him on to a succession of further 
experiments and failures. 

In order that he might complete the invention, r which 
he now believed to be at hand, he resolved to build for 
himself a glass-furnace near his dwelling, where he 
might carry on his operations in secret. He proceeded 
to build the furnace with his own hands, carrying the 



Bernard Palissy. 363 

bricks from the brickfield upon his back. He was 
bricklayer, laborer, and all. From seven to eight more 
months passed. At last the furnace was built and ready 
for use. Palissy had in the mean time fashioned a 
number of vessels of clay in readiness for the laying on 
of the enamel. After being subjected to a preliminary 
process of baking, they were covered with the enamel 
compound, and again placed in the furnace for the 
grand crucial experiment. Although his means were 
nearly exhausted, Palissy had been for some time 
accumulating a great store of fuel for the final effort, 
and he thought it was enough. At last the fire was 
lit, and the operation proceeded. All- day he sat by 
the furnace feeding it with fuel. He sat there watch- 
ing and feeding all through the long night. But the 
enamel did not melt. • The sun rose upon his labors. 
His wife brought him a portion of the scanty morning 
meal — for he would not stir from the furnace, into 
which he continued from time to time to heave more 
fuel. The second day passed, and still the enamel did 
not melt. The sun set, and another night passed. The 
pale, haggard, unshorn, baffled yet not beaten Palissy 
sat by his furnace eagerly looking for the melting of 
the enamel. A third day and night passed — a fourth, 
a fifth, and even a sixth — yes, for six long days and 
nights did the unconquerable Palissy watch and toil, 
fighting against hope; and still the enamel would not 
melt. 

It then occured to him that there might be some 



364 His Desperate Determination. 

defect in the materials for the enamel — perhaps some- 
thing wanting in the flux; so he set to work to pound 
and compound fresh materials for a new experiment. 
Thus two or three more weeks passed. But how to 
buy more pots? — for those which he had made with 
his own hands for the purposes of the first experiment 
were by long baking irretrievably spoiled for the pur- 
poses of a second. His money was now all spent; but 
he could borrow. His character was still good, though 
his wife and the neighbors thought him foolishly wast- 
ing his means in futile experiments. Nevertheless he 
succeeded. He borrowed sufficient from a friend to 
enable him to buy more fuel and more pots, and he was 
again ready for a further experiment. The pots were 
covered with the new compound, placed in the furnace, 
and the fire was again lit. 

It was the last and most desperate experiment of 
the whole. The fire blazed up; the heat became in- 
tense; but still the enamel did not melt. The fuel 
began to run short! How to keep up the fire? There 
were the garden palings: these would burn. They 
must be sacrificed rather than that the great experi- 
ment should fail. The garden palings were pulled up 
and cast into the furnace. They were burnt in vain! 
The enamel had not yet melted. Ten minutes more 
heat might do it. Fuel must be had at whatever cost. 
There remained the household furniture and shelving. 
A crashing noise was heard in the house; and amidst 
the screams of his wife and children, who now feared 



Bernard Palissy. 3(35 

Palissy's reason was giving way, the tables were siezed, 
broken up, and heaved into the furnace. The enamel 
had not melted yet! There remained the shelving. 
Another noise of the wrenching of timber was heard 
within the house, and the shelves were torn down and 
hurled after the furniture into the fire. Wife and chil- 
dren then rushed from the house, and went frantically 
through the town, calling out that poor Palissy had 
gone mad, and was breaking up his very furniture for 
firewood ! , 

For an entire month his shirt had not been off his back, 
and he was utterly worn out — wasted with toil, anxiety, 
watching, and want of food. He was in debt, and 
seemed on the verge to ruin. But he had at length 
mastered the secret; for the last great burst of heat 
had melted the enamel. The common brown house- 
hold jars, when taken out of the furnace after it had 
become cool, were found covered with a white glaze! 
For this he could endure reproach, contumely, and 
scorn, and wait patiently for the opportunity of putting 
his discovery into practice as better days came round. 

Palissy next hired a potter to make some earthen 
vessels after the designs which he furnished; while he 
himself proceeded to model some medallions in clay for 
the purpose of enamelling them. But how to maintain 
himself and his family until the wares were made and 
ready for sale? Fortunately there remained one man 
in Saintes who still believed in the integrity, if not in 
the judgment, of Palissy — an inn-keeper, who agreed 



366 Discovers the Enamel. 

to feed and lodge him for six months, while he went 
on with his manufacture. As for the working potter 
whom he had hired, Palissy soon found that he could 
not pay him the stipulated wages. Having already 
stripped his dwelling, he could but strip himself; and 
he accordingly parted with some of his clothes to the 
potter, in part payment of the wages which he owed 
him. 

Palissy next erected an improved furnace, but he was 
so unfortunate as to build part of the inside with flints. 
When it was heated these flints cracked and burst, and 
the spiculae were scattered over the pieces of pottery, 
sticking to them. Though the enamel came out right, 
the work was irretrievably spoilt, and thus six more 
months 7 labor was lost. Persons were found willing to 
buy the articles at a low price, notwithstanding the 
injury they had sustained; but Palissy would not sell 
them, considering that to have done so would be to 
" decry and abase his honor;" and so he broke in pieces 
the entire batch. " Nevertheless, 7 ' says he, " hope con- 
tinued to inspire me, and I held on manfully; some- 
times, when visitors called, I entertained them with 
pleasantry, while I was really sad at heart. . . . Worst 
of all the sufferings I had to endure, were the mockeries 
and persecutions of those of my own household, who 
were so unreasonable as to expect me to execute work 
without the means of doing so. For years my furnaces 
were without any covering or protection, and while 
attending them I have been for nights at the mercy of 



Bernard Palissy. 367 

the wind and the rain, without help or consolation, 
save it might be the wailing of cats on the one side and 
the howling of dogs on the other. Sometimes the 
tempest would beat so furiously against the furnaces 
that I was compelled to leave them and seek shelter 
within doors. Drenched by rain, and in no better 
plight than if I had been dragged through mire, I have 
gone to lie down at midnight or at daybreak, stumbling 
into the house without a light, and reeling from one 
side to another as if I had been drunken, but really 
weary with watching and filled with sorrow at the lo^s 
of my labor after such long toiling. But alas! my 
home proved no refuge; for, drenched and besmeared 
as I was, I found in my chamber a second persecution 
worse than the first, which makes me even now 
marvel that I was not utterly consumed by my many 
sorrows." 

At this stage of his affairs, Palissy became melan- 
choly and almost hopeless, and seems to have all but 
broken down. He wandered gloomily about the fields 
near Saintes, his clothing hanging in tatters, and himself, 
worn to a skeleton. In a curious passage in his writings 
he describes how that the calves of his legs had disap- 
peared, and were no longer able with the help of garters 
to hold up his stockings, which fell about his heels when 
he walked. The family continued to reproach him for 
his recklessness, and his neighbors cried shame upon him 
for his obstinate folly. So he returned for a time to his 
former calling; and after about a year's diligent labor, 



3Q8 Palissy, the Potter. 

during which he earned bread for his household and 
somewhat recovered his character among his neighbors, 
he again resumed his darling enterprise. But though 
he had already spent about ten years in the search for 
the enamel, it cost him nearly eight more years of ex- 
perimental plodding before he perfected his invention. 
He gradually learnt dexterity and certainty of result by 
experience, gathering practical knowledge out of many 
failures. Every mishap was a fresh lesson to him, teach- 
ing him something new about the nature of enamels, 
the qualities of argillaceous earths, the tempering of 
clays, and the construction and management of fur- 
naces. 

At last, after about sixteen years' labor, Palissy took 
heart, and called himself Potter. These sixteen years 
had been his term of apprenticeship to the art, during 
which he had wholly to teach himself, beginning at the 
very beginning. He was now able to sell his wares and 
thereby maintain his family in comfort. But he never 
rested satisfied with what he had accomplished. He 
proceeded from one step of improvement to another; 
always aiming at the greatest perfection possible. He 
studied natural objects for patterns, and with such suc- 
cess that the great BufTon spoke of him as " so great 
a naturalist as Nature only can produce.' 7 His orna- 
mental pieces are now regarded as rare gems in the 
cabinets as virtuosi, and sell at almost fabulous prices. 
The ornaments on them are for the most part accurate 
models from life, of wild animals, lizards, and plants, 



Sufferings of Palissy. 369 

found in the fields about Saintes, and tastefully com- 
bined as ornaments into the texture of a plate or vase. 
When Palissy had reached the height of his art he 
styled himself " Ouvrier de Terre et Inventeur des 
Rustics Figulines." 

We have not, however, come to an end of the suffer- 
ings of Palissy, respecting which a few words remain 
to be said. Being a Protestant at a time when relig- 
ious persecution waxed hot in the south of France, and 
expressing his views without fear, he was regarded as 
a dangerous heretic. His enemies having informed 
against him, his house at Saintes was entered by the 
officers of " justice, " and his workshop was thrown 
open to the rabble, who entered and smashed his pot- 
tery, while he himself was hurried off by night and 
cast into a dungeon at Bordeaux, to wait his turn 
at the stake or the scaffold. He was condemned to be 
burnt, but a powerful noble, the Constable de Montmo- 
rency, interposed to save his life — not because he had 
any special regard for Palissy or his religion, but be- 
cause no other artist could be found capable of execu- 
ting the enamelled pavement for his magnificent cha- 
teau then in course of erection at Ecouen, about four 
leagues from Paris. By his influence an edict was is- 
sued, appointing Palissy Inventor of Rustic Figulines to 
the King and to the Constable, which had the effect 
of immediately removing him from the jurisdiction of 
Bordeaux. He was accordingly liberated, and return- 
ed to his home at Saintes only to find it devastated 
24 



370 Palissy as an Author. 

and broken up. His workshop was open to the sky, 
and his works lay in ruins. Shaking the dust of Saintes 
from his feet, he left the place never to return to it, and 
removed to Paris to carry on the works ordered of him 
by the Constable and the Queen-Mother, being lodged 
in the Tuileries while so occupied. 

Besides carrying on the manufacture of pottery, with 
the aid of his two sons, Palissy, during the latter part 
of his life, wrote and published several books on the pot- 
ter's art, with a view to the instruction of his country- 
men, and in order that they might avoid the many mis- 
takes which he himself had made. He also wrote on 
agriculture, on fortification, and natural history, on 
which latter subject he even delivered lectures to a lim- 
ited number of persons. He waged war against astrol- 
ogy, alchemy, witchcraft, and like impostures, This 
stirred up against him many enemies, who pointed the 
finger at him as a heretic, and he was again arrested for 
his religion and imprisoned in the Bastille. He was 
now an old man of seventy-eight, trembling on the 
verge of the grave, but his spirit^was as brave as ever. 
He was threatened with death unless he recanted, but he 
was as obstinate in holding to his religion as he had 
been in hunting out the secret of the enamel. The 
king, Henry III., even went to see him in prison to in- 
duce him to abjure his faith. " My good man, 11 said 
the King, " you have now served my mother and my- 
self for forty-five years. We have put up with your 
adhering to your religion amidst tires and massacres . 






Death of Palissy. 371 

now I am so pressed by the Guise party as well as by 
my own people, that I am constrained to leave you in 
the hands of your enemies, and to-morrow you will be 
burnt unless you become converted." " Sire," answer 
ed the unconquerable old man, " I am ready to give my 
life for the glory of God. You have said many times 
that you have pity on me ; and now I have pity on you, 
who have pronounced the words / am constrained 7 It 
is not spoken like a king; it is what you, and those who 
constrain you, the Guisards and all your people, can 
never effect upon me, for I know how to die.' 1 Palissy 
did indeed die shortly after, a martyr, though not at 
the stake. He died in the Bastille, after enduring 
about a year's imprisonment — there peacefully termin- 
ating a life distinguished for heroic labor, extraordinary 
endurance, inflexible rectitude, and the exhibition of 
many rare and noble virtues." 




CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE GREAT POTTERS BOTTGHER, WEDGDWOOD. 

John Frederick Bottgher, the Berlin "Gold Cook." — His Trick in Alchemy, 
and Consequent Troubles. — Discovers How to Make Bed and White 

Porcelain. — The Manufacture Taken up by the Saxon Government. 

Bottgher Treated as a Prisoner and a Slave. — His Unhappy End. — Josiah 
Wedgwood, the English Potter. — Wedgwood's Indefatigable Industry. — 
His Success. — Wedgwood a National Benefactor. — Industrial Heroes. 

" Not what I have, but what I do is my kingdom. — Carlyle. 

n~\HE life of John Frederick Bottgher, the inventor of 
**- hard porcelain, presents a remarkable contrast to 
that of Palissy ; though it also contains many points of 
singular and almost romantic interest. Bottgher was 
born at Schleiz, in the Voightland, in 1685, an d at 
twelve years of age was placed apprentice with an 
apothecary at Berlin. He seems to have been early 
fascinated by chemistry, and occupied most of his leis- 
ure in making experiments. These for the most part 
tended in one direction — the art of converting common 
metals into gold. At the end of several years, Bottgher 
pretended to have discovered the universal solvent of 
the alchemists, and professed that he had made gold 
by its means. He exhibited its powers before his mas- 
ter, the apothecary Zorn, and by some trick or other 

37 2 



Bottgher, the "Gold Cook: 9 373 

succeeded in making him and several other witnesses 
believe that he had actually converted copper into gold. 

The news spread abroad that the apothecary's ap- 
prentice had discovered the grand secret, and crowds 
collected about the shop to get a sight of the wonder- 
ful young " gold-cook." The king himself expressed a 
wish to see and converse with him, and when Frederick 
I. was presented with a piece of the gold pretended to 
have been converted from copper, he was so dazzled 
with the prospect of securing an infinite quantity of it 
— Prussia being then in great straits for money — that 
he determined to secure Bottgher and employ him to 
make gold for him within the strong fortress of Span- 
dau. But the young apothecary, suspecting the king's 
intention, and probably fearing detection, at once re- 
solved on flight, and he succeeded in getting across the 
frontier into Saxony. 

A reward of a thousand thalers was offered for Bott- 
gher's apprehension, but in vain. He arrived at Wit- 
tenberg, and appealed for protection to the Elector of 
Saxony, Frederick Augustus I. (King of Poland), sur- 
named " the Strong." Frederick was himself very 
much in want of money at the time, and he was over- 
joyed at the prospect of obtaining gold in any quantity 
by the aid of the young alchemist, Bottgher was ac- 
cordingly conveyed in secret to Dresden, accompanied 
by a royal, escort. He had scarcely left Wittenberg 
when a battalion of Prussian grenadiers appeared before 
the gates demanding the gold-maker's extradition. 



374 John Frederick Bottgher. 

But it was too late: Bottgher had already arrived in 
Dresden, where he was lodged in the Golden House, 
and treated with every consideration, though strictly 
watched and kept under guard. 

The Elector, however, must needs leave him there 
for a time, having to depart forthwith to Poland, then 
almost in a state of anarchy. But impatient for gold, 
he wrote Bottgher from Warsaw, urging him to com- 
municate the secret, so that he himself might practice 
the art of commutation. The young " gold-cook," thus 
pressed, forwarded to Frederick a small vial containing 
" a reddish fluid," which it was asserted, changed all 
metals, when in a molten state, into gold. This im- 
portant vial was taken in charge by the Prince Furst 
von Furstenburg, who, accompanied by a regiment of 
Guards, hurried with it to Warsaw. Arrived there, it 
was determined to make immediate trial of the process. 
The King and the Prince locked themselves up in a 
secret chamber of the palace, girt themselves about 
with leather aprons, and like true u gold-cooks " set to 
work melting copper in a crucible and afterwards 
applying to it the red fluid of Bottgher. But the result 
was unsatisfactory; for notwithstanding all that they 
could do, the copper obstinately remained copper. On 
referring to the alchemist's instructions, however, the 
King found that, to succeed with the process, it was 
necessary that the fluid should be used "in great purity 
of heart;" and as his Majesty was conscious of having 
spent the evening in very bad company, he attributed 



Bottgher. 375 

the failure of the experiment to that cause. A second 
trial was followed by no better results, and then the 
King became furious ; for he had confessed and received 
absolution before beginning the second experiment. 

Frederick Augustus now resolved on forcing Bottgher 
to disclose the golden secret, as the only means of relief 
from his urgent pecuniary difficulties. The alchemist, 
hearing of the royal intention, again determined to fly. 
He succeeded in escaping his guard, and, after three 
day's travel, arrived at Ens, in Austria, where he 
thought himself safe. The agents of the Elector were, 
however, at his heels; they had tracked him to the 
"Golden Stag, 1 ' which they surrounded, and seizing 
him in his bed, notwithstanding his resistance and 
appeals to the Austrian authorities for help, they carried 
him by force to Dresden. From this time he was more 
strictly watched than ever, and he was shortly after 
transferred to the strong fortress of Koningstein. It 
was communicated to him that the royal exchequer was 
complete^ empty, and that ten regiments of Poles in 
arrears of pay were waiting for his gold. The King 
himself visited him, and told him in a severe tone that 
if he did not at once proceed to make gold, he would be 
hung! (" Thu mtr zurecht, Bottgher, sonst lass tch 
dick hangen.") 

Years passed, and still Bottgher made no gold; but 
he was not hung. It was reserved for him to make a 
far more important discovery than the conversion of 
copper into gold, namely, the conversion of clay into 



376 Makes Red Porcelain. 

porcelain. Some rare specimens of this ware had been 
brought by the Portuguese from China, which were 
sold for more than their weight in gold. Bottgher 
was first induced to turn his attention to the subject 
by Walter von Tschirnhaus, a maker of optical instru- 
ments, also an alchemist. Tschirnhaus was a man of 
education and distinction, and was held in much esteem 
by Prince Furtenburg as well as by the Elector. He 
very sensibly said to Bottgher, still in fear of the gal- 
lows — "If you can't make gold, try and do something 
else; make porcelain." 

The alchemist acted on the hint, and began his ex- 
periments, working night and day. He prosecuted his 
investigations for a long time with great assiduity, but 
without success. At length some red clay, brought to 
him for the purpose of making his crucibles, set him on 
the right track. He found that this clay, when sub- 
mitted to a high temperature, became vitrified and re- 
tained its shape; and that its texture resembled that of 
porcelain, excepting in color and opacity. He had, in 
fact, accidentally discovered red porcelain, and he pro- 
ceeded to manfacture it and sell it as porcelain. 

Bottgher was, however, well aware that the white 
color was an essential property of true porcelain; and 
he therefore prosecuted his experiments in the hope of 
discovering the secret. Several years thus passed, but 
without success; until again accident stood his friend, 
and helped him to a knowledge of the art of making 
white porcelain. One day, in the year 1707, he found 



White Porcelain. 37f 

his perruque unusually heavy, and asked of his valet 
the reason. The answer was, that it was owing to the- 
powder with which the wig was dressed, which consisted 
of a kind of earth then much used for hair-powder. 
Bottgher's quick- imagination immediately seized upon 
the idea. The white earthy powder might possibly be: 
the very earth of which he was in search — at all events 
the opportunity must not be let slip of ascertaining 
what it really was. He was rewarded for his pains-tak- 
ing care and watchfulness; for he found, on experiment, 
that the principal ingredient of the hair-powder consist- 
ed of kaolin, the want of which had so long formed 
an insuperable difficulty in the way of his inquiries. 

The discovery, in Bottgher's intelligent hands, led to 
great results, and proved of far greater importance than 
the discovery of the philosopher's stone would have 
been. In October, 1707, he presented his first piece of 
porcelain to the Elector, who was greatly pleased with 
it ; and it was resolved that Bottgher should be furnished 
with the means necessary for perfecting his invention. 
Having obtained a skilled workman from Delft, he 
began to turn porcelain with great success. He now" 
entirely abandoned alchemy for pottery, and inscribed 
over the door of his workshop this distich : — 

' Es machte Gott, der grosse Schopfer, 
Aus einem Cfoldmacher einen Topfer" " 

" Almighty God, the great Creator, 
Has changed a goldmaker to a potter." 

Bottgher, however, was still under strict surveillance* 



B78 Bottgher. 

for fear lest he should communicate his secret to others 
or escape the Elector's control. The new workshops 
and furnaces which were erected for him were guard- 
ed by troops night and day, and six superior officers 
were made responsible for the personal security of the 
potter. 

Bottgher's further experiments with his new furnaces 
proving very successful, and the porcelain which he 
manufactured being found to fetch large prices, it was 
next determined to establish a Royal Manufactory of 
porcelain. The manufacture of delft ware was known 
to have greatly enriched Holland. Why should not the 
manufacture of porcelain equally enrich the Elector? 
Accordingly, a decree went forth, dated the 2 2d of 
January, 1710, for the establishment of" a large manu- 
factory of porcelain 1 ' at the Albrechtsburg in Meissen. 
In this decree, which was translated into Latin, French, 
and Dutch, and distributed by the Ambassadors of the 
Elector at all the European Courts, Frederick Augus- 
tus set forth that to promote the welfare of Saxony, 
which had suffered much through the Swedish invasion, 
he had u directed his attention to the subterranean 
treasures (unterirdischen Schatze^ of the country, and 
having employed some able persons in the investigation, 
they had succeeded in manufacturing " a sort of red 
vessels (eine A rt rother Gefasse) far superior to the 
Indian terra sigillata;" as also " colored ware and plates 
{buntes Geschirr und Tafdn) which may be cut, 
ground, and polished, and are quite equal to Indian 



Bottcjher. 379 

vessels, 11 and finally that "specimens of white porcelain 
(Proben von tveissem Porzellan") had already been 
obtained, and it was hoped that this quality, too, would 
soon be manufactured in considerable quantities. The 
royal decree concluded by inviting "foreign artists and 
handicraft men " to come to Saxony and engage as 
assistants in the new factory, at high wages, and under 
the patronage of the King. This royal edict probably 
gives the best account of the actual state of Bottghe^s 
invention at the time. 

It has been stated in German publications that Bott- 
gher, for the great services rendered by him to the 
Elector and to Saxony, was made manager of the Royal 
Porcelain Works, and further promoted to the dignity 
of Baron, Doubtless he deserved these honors; but 
his treatment was of an altogether different character, 
for it was shabby, cruel, and inhuman. Two royal offi- 
cials, named Matthieu and Nehmitz, were put over his 
head as directors of the factory, while he himself only 
held the position of foreman of potters, and at the same 
time was detained the King's prisoner. During the 
erection of the factory at Meissen, while his assistance 
was still indispensable, he was conducted by soldiers to 
and from Dresden; and even after the works were fin- 
ished, he was locked up nightly in his room. All this 
preyed upon his mind, and in repeated letters to the 
King he sought to obtain mitigation of his fate. Some 
of these letters are very touching. " I will devote my 
whole soul to the art of making porcelain, 11 he writes 



380 His Unhappy End. 

on one occasion, " I will do more than any inventor 
ever did before; only give me liberty, liberty! 1 ' 

To those appeals the King turned a deaf ear. He 
was ready to spend money and grant favors; but lib- 
erty he would not give. He regarded Bottgher as his 
slave. In this position the persecuted man kept on 
working for some time, till, at the end of a year or two, 
he grew negligent. Disgusted with the world and 
with himself, he took to drinking. Such is the force of 
example, that it no sooner became known that Bottgher 
had betaken himself to this vice, than the greater num- 
ber of the workmen at the Meissen factory became 
drunkards too. ' Quarrels and fightings without end 
were the consequences, so that the troops were frequent- 
ly called upon to interfere and keep peace among the 
"Porzellanern," as they were nicknamed. After a 
while, the whole of them, more than three hundred, 
were shut up in the Albrechstburg, and treated as 
prisoners of state. 

Bottgher at last fell seriously ill, and in May, 17 13, 
his dissolution was hourly expected. The King, alarm- 
ed at losing so valuable a slave, now gave him permis 
sion to take carriage exercise under a guard; and hav- 
ing somewhat recovered, he was allowed occasionally 
to go to Dresden. In a letter written by the King in 
April, 1 7 14, Bottgher was promised his full liberty; 
but the offer came too late. Broken in body and mind, 
alternately working and drinking, though with occa- 
sional gleams of nobler intention, and suffering under 



His Unhappy End. 381 

constant ill-health, the result of his enforced confine- 
ment, Bottgher lingered on for a few years more, until 
death freed him from his sufferings on the 13th March, 
1719, in the thirty-fifth year of his age. He was bur- 
ied at night — as if he had been a ' dog — in the Johan- 
nis Cemetery of Meissen. Such was the treatment and 
such the unhappy end, of one of Saxony's greatest 
benefactors. 

The porcelain manufacture immediately opened up 
an important source of public revenue, and it became 
so productive to the Elector of Saxony, that his exam- 
ple was shortly after followed by most European mon- 
archs. Although soft porcelain had been made at St. 
Cloud fourteen years before Bottgher's discovery, the 
superiority of the hard porcelain soon became general- 
ly recognized. Its manufacture was begun at Sevres 
in 1770, and it has since almost entirely superseded 
the softer material. This is now one of the most thriv- 
ing branches of French industry, of which the high 
quality of the articles produced is certainly indispu- 
table. 

The career of Josiah Wedgwood, the English potter, 
was less chequered and more prosperous than that of 
either Palissy or Bottgher, and his lot was cast in hap- 
pier times. Down to the middle of last century Eng- 
land was behind most other nations of the first order in 
Europe in respect of skilled industry. Although there 
were many potters in Staffordshire — and Wedgwood 
himself belonged to a numerous caste of potters of the 



382 Josiah Wedgivood. 

same name— their productions were of the rudest kind,, 
.for the most part only plain brown ware, with the pat- 
terns scratched in while the clay was wet. The prin- 
cipal supply of the better articles of earthenware came 
from Delft in Holland, and of drinking stone pots 
from Cologne. Two foreign potters, the brothers Elers 
from Nuremberg, settled for a time in Staffordshire, 
and introduced an improved manufacture, but they 
shortly after removed to Chelsea, where they confined 
themselves to the manufacture of ornamental pieces. 
No porcelain capable of resisting a scratch with a hard 
point had yet been made in England; and for a long 
time the " white ware " made in Staffordshire was not 
white, but of a dirty cream color. Such, in a few words, 
was the condition of the pottery manufacture when 
Josiah Wedgwood was born in Burslem in 1 730. By 
the time that he died, sixty-four years later, it had 
become completely changed. By his energy, skill, and 
genius, he established the trade upon a new and solid 
foundation; and, in the words of his epitaph, " con- 
verted a rude and inconsiderable manufacture into an 
elegant art and an important branch of national com- 
merce.' 

Josiah Wedgwood was one of those indefatigable 
men who from time to time spring from the ranks of 
the common people, and by their energetic character 
not only practically educate the working population 
in habits of industry, but by the example of dili- 
gence and perseverance which they set before them, 



Learns the Pottery Trade. 38$ 

largely influence the public activity in all directions, 
and contribute in a great degree to form the national 
character. He was, like Arkwright, the youngest of 
a family of thirteen children. His grandfather and 
grand-uncle were both potters, as was also his father, 
who died when he was a mere boy, leaving him a pat- 
rimony of twenty pounds. He had learned to read 
and write at the village school; but on the death of 
his father he was taken from it and set to work as a 
" thrower " in a small pottery carried on by his elder 
brother. There he began life, his working life, to use 
his own words, " at the lowest round of the ladder," 
when only eleven years old. He was shortly after 
seized by an attack of virulent smallpox, from the ef- 
fects of which he suffered during the rest of his life, for 
it was followed by a disease in the right knee, which 
recurred at frequent intervals, and was only got rid of 
by the amputation of the limb many years later. Mr. 
Gladstone, in his eloquent Eloge on Wedgwood recent- 
ly delivered at Burslem, well observed that the disease 
from which he suffered was not improbably the occa- 
sion of his subsequent excellence. " It prevented him 
from growing up to be the active, vigorous English 
workman, possessed of all his limbs, and knowing right 
well the use of them; but it put him upon considering 
whether, as he could not be that, he might not be 
something else, and something greater. It sent his 
mind inwards; it drove him to meditate upon the laws 
and secrets of his art. The result was, that he arrived 



384 . Josiah Wtdgwood. 

at a perception and a grasp of them which might per- 
haps have been envied, certainly have been owned, by 
the Athenian potter." 

When he had completed his apprenticeship with his 
brother, Josiah joined partnership with another work- 
man, and carried on a small business in making knife- 
hafts, boxes, and sundry articles for domestic use. An- 
other partnership followed, when he proceeded to make 
melon table-plates, green pickle-leaves, candlesticks, 
snuffboxes, and such like articles; but he made com- 
paratively little progress until he began business on his 
own account at Burslem in the year 1759. There he 
diligently pursued his calling, introducing new articles 
to the trade, and gradually extending his business. What 
he chiefly aimed at was to manufacture cream-colored 
ware of a better quality than was then produced in 
Staffordshire as regarded shape, color, glaze, and dura- 
bility. To understand the subject thoroughly, he de- 
voted his leisure to the study of chemistry; and he 
made numerous experiments on fluxes, glazes, and va- 
rious sorts of clay. Being a close inquirer and accurate 
observer, he noticed that a certain earth containing- 
silica, which was black before calcination, became white 
after exposure to the heat of a furnace. This fact, 
observed and pondered on, led to the idea of mixing si- 
lica with the red powder of the potteries, and to the dis- 
covery that the mixture becomes white when calcined. 
He had but to cover this material with a verification 
of transparent glaze, to obtain one of the most impor- 



His Experiments. 385 

tant products of fictile art — that which, under the name 
of English earthenware, was to attain the greatest com- 
mercial value and become of the most extensive utility. 

Wedgwood was for some time much troubled by his 
furnaces, though nothing like to the same extent that 
Palissy was; and he overcame his difficulties in the 
same way — by repeated experiments and unfaltering 
perseverance. His first attempts at making porcelain 
for table use were a succession of disastrous failures — 
the labors of months being often destroyed in a day. 
It was only after a long series of trials, in the course of 
which he lost time, money and labor, that he arrived 
at the proper sort of glaze to be used; but he would 
not be denied, and at last he conquered success through 
patience. The improvement of pottery became his pas- 
sion, and was never lost sight of for a moment. Even 
when he had mastered his difficulties, and become a 
prosperous man — manufacturing white stone ware and 
cream-colored ware in large quantities for home and for- 
eign use — he went forward perfecting his manufactures, 
until, his example extending in all directions, the action 
of the entire district was stimulated, and a great branch 
of British industry was eventually established on firm 
foundations. He aimed throughout at the highest 
excellence, declaring his determination " to give over 
manufacturing any article, whatsoever it might be, 
rather than to degrade it." 

Wedgwood was cordially helped by many persons 
of rank and influence; for, working in the truest spirit, 
25 



386 The Barberini Vase- 

he readily commanded the help and encouragement of 
other true workers. He made for Queen Charlotte the 
first royal table-service of English manufacture, of the 
kind afterwards called " queen Vware," and was ap- 
pointed Royal Potter; a title which he prized more 
than if he had been made a baron. Valuable sets of 
porcelain were intrusted to him for imitation, in which 
he succeeded to admiration. Sir William Hamilton 
lent him specimens of ancient art from Herculaneum, 
of which he produced accurate and beautiful copies. 
The Duchess of Portland outbid him for the Barberini 
Vase when that article was offered for sale. He bid as 
high as seventeen hundred guineas for it; her grace 
secured it for eighteen hundred; but when she learnt 
Wedgwood's object she at once generously lent him 
the vase to copy. He produced fifty copies at a cost 
of about £2500, and his expenses were not covered by 
their sale; but he gained his object, which was to show 
that whatever had been done, that English skill and 
energy could and would accomplish. 

Wedgwood called to his aid the crucible of the 
chemist, the knowledge of the antiquary, and the skill 
of the artist. He found out Flaxman when a youth, 
and while he liberally nurtured his genius, drew from 
him a large number of beautiful designs for his pottery 
and porcelain; converting them by his manufacture 
into objects of taste and excellence, and thus making 
them instrumental in the diffusion of classical art 
amongst the people. By careful experiment and study 



Josiah Wedgwood. 387 

he was even enabled to rediscover the art of painting 
on porcelain or earthenware vases and similar articles 
— an art practiced by the ancient Etruscans, but which 
had been lost since the time of Pliny. He distinguished 
himself by his own contributions to science, and his 
name is still identified with the pyrometer which he 
invented. He was an indefatigable supporter of all 
measures of public utility; and the construction of the 
Trent and Mersey Canal, which completed the navi- 
gable communication between the eastern and western 
sides of the island, was mainly due to his public-spirited 
exertions, allied to the engineering skill of Brindley. 
The road accommodation of the district being of an 
execrable character, he planned and executed a turn- 
pike-road through the potteries, ten miles in length. 
The reputation he achieved was such that his works at 
Burslem, and subsequently those at Etruria, which he 
founded and built, became a point of attraction to dis- 
tinguished visitors from all parts of Europe. 

The result of Wedgwood's labors was, that the man- 
ufacture of pottery, which he found in the very lowest 
condition, became one of the staples of England; and 
instead of importing what we needed for home use 
from abroad, we became large exporters to other coun- 
tries, supplying them with earthenware even in the 
face of enormous prohibitory duties on articles of 
British produce. Wedgwood gave evidence as to his 
manufactures before Parliament in 1785, only some 
thirty years after he had begun his operations; from 



388 The Pottery Manufacture* 

which it appeared, that instead of providing only casual 
employment to a small number of inefficient and badly 
remunerated workmen, about 20,000 persons than de- 
rived their bread directly from the manufacture of 
earthenware, without taking into account the increased 
numbers to which it gave employment in coal-mines, 
and in the carrying trade by land and sea, and the 
stimulus which it gave to employment in many ways in 
various parts of the country. Yet, important as had 
been the advances made in his time, Mr. Wedgwood 
was of opinion that the manufacture was but in its 
infancy, and that the improvements which he had 
effected were of but small amount compared with those 
to which the art was capable of attaining, through the 
continued industry and growing intelligence of the 
manufacturers, and the natural facilities and political 
advantages enjoyed by Great Britain; an opinion 
which has been fully borne out by the progress which 
has since been effected in this important branch of 
industry. In 1852 not fewer than 84,000,000 pieces of 
pottery were exported from England to other coun 
tries, besides what were made for home use. But it is 
not merely the quantity and value of the produce that 
is entitled to consideration, but the improvement of 
the condition of the population by whom this great 
branch of industry is conducted. When Wedgwood 
began his labors, the Staffordshire district was only 
in a half-civilized state. The people were poor unculti- 
vated, and few in number. When Wedgwood's manu- 



The Pottery Manufacture* 389 

facture was firmly established, there was found ample 
employment at good wages for three times the number 
of population; while their moral advancement had kept 
pace with their material improvement. 

Men such as these are fairly entitled to take rank as 
the Industrial Heroes of the civilized world. Their 
patient self-reliance amidst trials and difficulties, their 
courage and perseverance in the pursuit of worthy ob- 
jects, are not less heroic of their kind than the bravery 
and devotion of the soldier and, the sailor, whose duty 
and pride it is heroically to defend what these valiant 
leaders of industry have so heroically achieved. 




CHAPTER XXXIII. 



LEADERS OF INDUSTRY INVENTORS AND PRODUCERS 



Industry of the English People. — Poverty and Toil not Insurmountable 
Obstacles. — Working-men as Inventors. — Invention of the Steam-engine. 
— James Watt: His Industry and Habit of Attention. — The Cotton Man- 
ufacture. — The Early Inventors. — Arkwright: His Early Life. — Barber, 
Inventor and Manufacturer. — His Influence and Character. 



"Deduct all that the humbler classes of men have done for England in 
the way of invention only, and see where she would have been but for 
them."— Arthub Helps. 



/"\NE of the most strongly marked features of the 
^^ English people is their spirit of industry, standing 
out prominent and distinct in their past history, and as 
strikingly characteristic of them now as at any former 
period. It is this spirit, displayed by the commons of 
England, which has laid the foundations and built up 
the industrial greatness of the empire. This vigorous 
growth of the nation has been mainly the result of the 
free energy of individuals, and it has been contingent 
upon the number of hands and minds from time to time 
actively employed within it, whether as cultivators of 
the soil, producers of articles of utility, contrivers of 
tools and machines, writers of books, or crea^prs of 
works of art. And while this spirit of active industry 

390 



Toil the Best School 391 

has been the vital principal of the nation, it has also 
been its saving and remedial one, counteracting from 
time to time the effects of errors in our laws and im- 
perfections in our constitution. 

The career of industry which the nation has pur- 
sued, has also proved its best education. As steady 
application to work is the healthiest training for 
every individual, so is it the best discipline of a 
state. Honorable industry travels the same road with 
duty; and Providence has closely linked both with 
happiness. The gods, says the poet, have placed la- 
bor and toil on the way leading to the Elysian fields. 
Certain it is that no bread eaten by man is so sweet as 
that earned by his own labor, whether bodily or men- 
tal. By labor the earth has been subdued, and man re- 
deemed from barbarism; nor has a single step in civili- 
zation been made without it. Labor is not only a ne- 
cessity and a duty, but a blessing: only the idler feels 
it to be a curse. The duty of work is written on the 
thews and muscles of the limbs, the mechanism of the 
hand, the nerves and lobes of the brain — the sum of 
whose healthy action is satisfaction and enjoyment. In 
the school of labor is taught the best practical wisdom ; 
nor is a life of manual employment, as we shall hereaf- 
ter find, incompatible with high mental culture. 

Hugh Miller, than whom none knew better the 
strength and the weakness belonging to the lot of la- 
bor, stated the result of his experience to be, that 
Work, even the hardest, is full of pleasure and materi- 



392 Toil the Best School 

als for self-improvement. He held honest labor to be 
the best of teachers, and that the school of toil is the 
noblest of schools — save only the Christian one — that 
it is a school in which the ability of being useful is im- 
parted, the spirit of independence learnt, and the habit 
of persevering effort acquired. He was even of opin- 
ion that the training of the mechanic — by the exercise 
which it gives to his observant faculties, from his daily 
dealing with things actual and practical, and the close 
experience of life which he acquires — better fits him 
for picking his way along the journey of life, and is 
more favorable to his growth as a Man, emphatically 
speaking, than the training afforded by any other con- 
dition. 

The array of great names which we have already 
cursorily cited, of men springing from the ranks of the 
industrial classes, who have achieved distinction in 
various walks of life — in science, commerce, literature, 
and art — shows that at all events the difficulties inter- 
posed by poverty and labor are not insurmountable. 

As respects the great contrivances and inventions 
which have conferred so much power and wealth upon 
the nation, it is unquestionable that for the greater 
part of them we have been indebted to men of the hum- 
blest rank. Deduct what they have done in this partic- 
ular line of action, and it will be found that very little 
indeed remains for other men to have accomplished. 

Inventors have set in motion some of the greatest in- 
dustries of the world. To them society owes many of 






Invention of the Steam-Engine* 393 

its chief necessaries, comforts and luxuries; and by 
their genius and labor daily life has been rendered in 
all respects more easy as well as enjoyable. Our food r 
our clothing, the furniture of our homes, the glass which 
admits the light to our dwellings at the same time that 
it excludes the cold, the gas which illuminates our 
streets, our means of locomotion by land and by sea, 
the tools by which our various articles of necessity and 
luxury are fabricated, have been the result of the labor 
and ingenuity of many men and many minds. Man* 
kind at large are all the happier for such inventions r 
and are every day reaping the benefit of them in an in- 
crease of individual well-being as well as of public en- 
joyment. 

Though the invention of the working steam-engine — 
the king of machines — belongs, comparatively speaking, 
to our own epoch, the idea of it was born many cen- 
turies ago. Like other contrivances and discoveries, it 
was effected step by step — one man transmitting the 
result of his labors, at the time apparently useless, to 
his successors, who took it up and carried it forward an- 
other stage — the prosecution of the inquiry extending 
over many generations. Thus the idea promulgated 
by Hero of Alexandria was never altogether lost; but 
like the grain of wheat hid in the hand of the Egyptian 
mummy, it sprouted, and again grew vigorously when 
brought into the full light of modern science. The 
steam-engine was nothing, however, until it emerged 
from the state of theory, and was taken in hand by 



394 James Watt. 

practical mechanics: and what a noble story of patient, 
laborious, investigation, of difficulties encountered and 
overcome by heroic industry, does not that marvellous 
machine tell oil It is indeed, in itself, a monument of 
the power of self-help in man. Grouped around it we 
rind Savary, the military engineer; Newcomen, the 
Dartmouth blacksmith: Cawley, the glazier; Potter, 
the engine-boy: Smeaton. the civil engineer; and, tow- 
ering above all, the laborious, patient, never-tiring 
James Watt, the mathematical-instrument maker. 

"Watt was one of the most industrious of men; and 
the story of his life proves, what all experience confirms, 

: it is not the man of the greatest natural vi^or and 
capacity who achieves the highest results, but he who 
employs his powers with the greatest industry and the 
most carefully disciplined skill — the skill that comes 
by labor, application, and experience. Many men in his 
time knew far more than Watt, but none labored so 
assiduously as he did to turn all that he did know to 
useful practical purposes, He was above all things, 
most persevering in the pursuit of facts. He cultivated 
carefully that habit of active attention on which all the 
higher working qualities of the mind mainly depend. 
Indeed. Mr. Edgeworth entertained the opinion, that 
the difference of intellect in men depends more upon 
the early cultivation of this habit of attentio?!, than 

mi any great disparity between the powers of one 
\ idual and another 

Even when a bov. Watt found science in his tovs. 



Applications of the Steam Engine. 395 

The quadrants lying about his father's carpenter's shop 
led him to the study of optics and astronomy; his ill 
health induced him to pry into the secrets of physiolo- 
gy; and his solitary walks through the country at- 
tracted him to the study of botany and history. While 
carrying on the business of a mathematical-instrument 
maker, he received an order to build an organ; and, 
though without an ear for music, he undertook the 
study of harmonies, and successfully constructed the 
instrument. And, in like manner, when the little mod- 
el of Newcomen's steam-engine, belonging to the Uni- 
versit} r of Glasgow, was placed in his hands to repair, 
he forthwith set himself to learn all that was then knowr 
about heat, evaporation, and condensation — at the same 
time plodding his way in mechanics and the science of 
construction — the results of which he at length embod- 
ied in his condensing steam-engine. 

For ten years he went on contriving and inventing 
— with little hope to cheer him, and with few friends 
to encourage him. He went on, meanwhile, earning 
bread for his family by making and selling quadrants, 
making and mending riddles, flutes, and musical instru- 
ments; measuring mason- work, surveying roads, super- 
intending the construction of canals, or doing any thing 
that turned up and offered a prospect of honest gain. 
At length Watt found a fit partner in another eminent 
leader of industry — Matthew Boulton, of Birmingham; 
a skillful, energetic, and far-seeing man, who vigorously 
undertook the enterprise of introducing the condens- 



396 The Cotton Manufacture* 

ing-engine into general use as a working power; and 
the success of both is now matter of history. 

Many skillful inventors have from time to time add- 
ed new power to the steam-engine; and, by numerous 
modifications, rendered it capable of being applied to 
nearly all the purposes of manufacture — driving ma- 
chinery, impelling ships, grinding corn, printing books, 
stamping money, hammering, planing, and turning- 
iron; in short, of performing every description of me- 
chanical labor where power is required. One of the 
most useful modifications in the engine was that devised 
by Trevithick, and eventually perfected by George 
Stephenson and his son, in the form of the railway loco- 
motive, by which social changes of immense importance 
have been brought about, of even greater consequence, 
considered in their results on human progress and civ- 
ilization, than the condensing engine of Watt. 

One of the first grand results of Watt's invention — 
which placed an almost unlimited power at the com- 
mand of the producing classes — was the establishment 
of the cotton-manufacture. The person most closely 
identified with the foundation of this great branch of 
industry was unquestionably Sir Richard Arkwright, 
whose practical energy and sagacity were perhaps even 
more remarkable than his mechanical inventiveness. 
His originality as an inventor has indeed been called in 
question, like that of Watt and Stephenson. Arkwright 
probably stood in the same relation to the spinning- 
machine that Watt did to the steam-engine and Ste- 



Richard Arkwright, Barber, 397 

phenson to the locomotive. He gathered together the 
scattered threads of ingenuity which already existed, 
and wove them, after his own design, into a new and 
original fabric. Though Lewis Paul, of Birmingham, 
patented the invention of spinning by rollers thirty 
years before Arkwright, the machines constructed by 
him were so imperfect in their details, that they could 
not be profitably worked, and the invention was prac- 
tically a failure. Another obscure mechanic, a reed- 
maker of Leigh, named Thomas High, is also said to 
have invented the water-frame and spinning-jenny; but 
they, too, proved unsuccessful. 

When the demands of industry are found to press 
upon the resources of inventors, the same idea is usually 
found floating about in many minds ; — such has been the 
case with the steam-engine, and safety-lamp, the electric 
telegraph, and other inventions. Many ingenious minds 
are found laboring in the throes of invention, until at 
length the master-mind, the strong practical man, steps 
forward, and straight- way delivers them of their idea, 
applies the principle successfully, and the thing is done. 
Then there is a loud outcry among all the smaller con- 
trivers, who see themselves distanced in the race; and 
hence men such as Watt, Stephenson, and Arkwright, 
have usually to defend their reputation and their rights 
as practical and successful inventors. 

Richard Arkwright, like most of our great mechan- 
icians, sprang from the ranks. He was born in Preston 
in 1732. His parents were very poor, and he was the 



o98 Richard Arkwrtght, Barber. 

youngest of thirteen children. He was never at school; 
the only education he received he gave to himself; and 
to the last he was only able to write with difficulty. 
When a boy, he was apprenticed to a barber, and after 
learning the business, he set up for himself in Bolton, 
where he occupied an underground cellar, over which 
he put up the sign, u Come to the subterraneous barber 
— he shaves for a penny," The other barbers found 
their customers leaving them, and reduced their prices 
to his standard, when Arkwright, determined to push 
his trade, announced his determination to give " A clean 
shave for a halfpenny." After a few years he quitted 
his cellar, and became an itinerant dealer in hair. At 
that time wigs were worn, and wig-making formed an 
important branch of the barbering business. Ark- 
wright went about buying hair for the wigs. He was 
accustomed to attend the hiring-fairs throughout Lan 
cashire resorted to by young women, for the purpose 
of securing their long tresses; and it is said that in 
negotiations of this sort he was very successful. He 
also dealt in a chemical hair-dye, which he used adroitly, 
and thereby secured a considerable trade. But he does 
not seem, notwithstanding his pushing character to have 
done more than earn a bare living. 

The fashion of wig-wearing having undergone a 
change, distress fell upon the wig-makers; and Ark- 
wright, being of a mechanical turn, was consequently 
induced to turn machine inventor or " conjurer," as the 
pursuit was then popularly termed. Many attempts 



Richard Arkwright, Inventor. 399 

were made about that time to invent a spinning-ma- 
chine, and our barber determined to launch his little 
bark on the sea of invention with the rest. Like other 
self-taught men of the same bias, he had already been 
devoting his spare time to the invention of a perpetual- 
motion machine; and from that the transition to a spin- 
ning-machine was easy. He followed his experiments 
so assiduously that he neglected his business, lost the 
little money he had saved, and was reduced to great 
poverty. His wife — for he had by this time married — 
was impatient at what she conceived was a wanton 
waste of time and money, and in a moment of sudden 
wrath she seized upon and destroyed his models, hoping 
thus to remove the cause of the family privations. 
Arkwright was a stubborn and enthusiastic man, and 
he was provoked beyond measure by this conduct of his 
wife, from whom he immediately separated. 

In travelling about the country, Arkwright had be- 
come acquainted with a person named Kay, a clock- 
maker at Warrington, who assisted him in constructing 
some of the parts of his perpetual-motion machinery. 
It is supposed that . he was informed by Kay of the 
principle of spinning by rollers; but it is also said that 
the idea was first suggested to him by accidentally 
observing a red-hot piece of iron become elongated by 
passing between iron rollers. However this may be, 
the idea at once took firm possession of his mind, and 
he proceeded to devise the process by which it was to 
be accomplished, Kay being able to tell him nothing on 



400 Richard Arkwright, Inventor. 

this point. Arkwright now abandoned his business of 
hair-collecting, and devoted himself to the perfecting 
of his machine, a model of which, constructed by Kay 
under his directions, he set up in the parlor of the Free 
Grammar-school at Preston. Being a burgess of the 
town, he voted at the contested election at which Gen- 
eral Burgoyne was returned ; but such was his poverty, 
and such the tattered state of his dress, that a number 
of persons subscribed a sum sufficient to have him put 
in a state fit to appear in the poll-room. The exhibi- 
tion of his machine in the town where so many work- 
people lived by the exercise of manual labor proved a 
dangerous experiment; ominous growlings were heard 
outside the school-room from time to time, and Ark- 
wright — remembering the fate of Kay, who was 
mobbed and compelled to fly from Lancashire because of 
his invention of the fly-shuttle, and of poor Hargreaves, 
whose spinning-jenny had been pulled to pieces only a 
short time before by a Blackburn mob — wisely deter- 
mined on packing up his model and removing to a less 
dangerous locality. He went accordingly to Notting- 
ham, where he applied to some of the local bankers for 
pecuniary assistance; and the Messrs. Wright consented 
to advance him a sum of money on condition of sharing 
in the profits of the invention. The machine, however, 
not being perfected so soon as they had anticipated, 
the bankers recommended Arkwright to apply to 
Messrs. Strutt and Need, the former of whom was the 
ingenious inventor and patentee of the stocking-frame. 






^ Richard Arkwright, Manufacturer. 401 

Mr. Strutt at once appreciated the merits of the inven- 
tion, and a partnership was entered into with Arkwright, 
whose road to fortune was now clear. The patent was 
secured in the name of "Richard Arkwright, of Not- 
tingham, clockmaker," and it is a circumstance worthy 
of note, that it was taken out in 1769, the same year 
in which Watt secured the patent for his steam- 
engine. A cotton-mill was first erected at Notting- 
ham, driven by horses; and another was shortly after 
built, on a much larger scale, at Cromford, in Derby- 
shire, turned by a water-wheel, from which circum- 
stance the spinning-machine came to be called the 
water-frame. 

Arkwright's labors, however, were, comparatively, 
speaking, only begun. He had still to perfect all the 
working details of his machine. It was in his hands 
the subject of constant modification and improvement, 
until eventually it was rendered practicable and profit- 
able in an eminent degree. But success was only 
secured by long and patient labor; for some years in- 
deed, the speculation was disheartening and unprofita- 
ble, swallowing up a very large amount of capital 
without any result. When success began to appear 
more certain, then the Lancashire manufacturers fell 
upon Arkwright's patent to pull it in pieces, as the 
Cornish miners fell upon Boulton and Watt to rob 
them of the profits of their steam-engine. Arkwright 
was even denounced as the enemy of the working peo- 
ple; and a mill which he built near Chorley was de- 
26 



402 Richard Arkwright, Manufacturer. ' 

stroyed by a mob in the presence of a strong force of 
police and miktary. The Lancashire men refused to 
buy his materials, though they were confessedly the 
best in the market. Then they refused to pay patent- 
right for the use of his machines, and combined to 
crush him in the courts of law. To the disgust of 
right-minded people, Arkwright r s patent was upset* 
After the trial, when passing the hotel at which his 
opponents were staying, one of them said, loud enough 
to be heard by him, " Well, we've done the old shaver 
at last;" to which he coolly replied, " Never mind, I've 
a razor left that will shave you all." He established 
new mills in Lancashire, Derbyshire, and at New Lan- 
ark, in Scotland. The mills of Cromford also came 
into his hands at the expiry of his partnership with 
Strutt, and the amount and the excellence of his pro- 
ducts were such, that in a short time he obtained so 
complete a control of the trade, that the prices were 
fixed by him, and he governed the main operations of 
the other cotton-spinners. 

Arkwright was a man of great force of character, in- 
domitable courage, much worldly shrewdness, with a 
business faculty almost amounting to genius. At one 
period his time was engrossed by severe and continu- 
ous labor, occasioned by the organizing and conducting 
of his numerous manufactories, sometimes from four in 
the morning till nine at night. At fifty years of age he 
set to work to learn English grammar, and improve 
himself in writing and orthography. After overcoming 



Richard Arkivriglit, Manufacturer, 



403 



every obstacle, he had the satisfaction of reaping the 
reward of his enterprise. Eighteen years after he had 
constructed his first machine, he rose to such estima- 
tion in Derbyshire that he was appointed High Sheriff 
of the county, and shortly after George III. conferred 
upon him the honor of knighthood. He died in 1792. 
Be it for good or for evil, Arkwright was the founder 
in England of the modern factory system, a branch of 
industry which has unquestionably proved a source of 
immense wealth to individuals and to the nation. 




CHAPTER XXXIV. 

LEADERS OF INDUSTRY — INVENTORS AND PRODUCERS. 

The Peels of South Lancashire.— The Founder of the Family.— The First 
Sir Robert Peel, Cotton-printer. — Lady Peel. — Rev. William Lee, In- 
ventor of the Stocking-frame. — Dies Abroad in Misery. — James Lee. — 
The Nottingham Lace Manufacture. 

" Is there one whom difficulties dishearten, who bends to the storm? He 
will do little. Is there one who will conquer? That kind of man never 
fails." — John Hunter. 

'T\HE great branches of industry in Britain furnish 
-*- like examples of energetic men of business, the 
source of much benefit to the neighborhoods in which 
they have labored, and of increased power and wealth 
to the community at large. Amongst such might be 
cited the Strutts of Belper; the Tennants of Glasgow; 
the Marshalls and Gotts of Leeds; the Peels, Ash- 
worths of South Lancashire, some of whose descendants 
have since become distinguished in connection with the 
political history of England. Such pre-eminently were 
the Peels of South Lancashire. 

The founder of the Peel family, about the middle of 
last century, was a small yeoman, occupying the Hole 
House Farm, near Blackburn, from which he afterwards 
removed to a house situated in Fish Lane in that town. 

404 



The Peel Family. 405 

Robert Peel, as he advanced in life, saw a large family 
of sons and daughters growing up about him; but the 
land about Blackburn being somewhat barren, it did 
not appear to him that agricultural pursuits offered a 
very encouraging prospect for their industry. The 
place had, however, long been the seat of a domestic 
manufacture — the fabric called " Blackburn grays," 
consisting of linen wept and cotton warp, being chiefly 
made in that town and its neighborhood. It was then 
customary — previous to the introduction of the factory 
system — for industrious yeomen with families to em- 
ploy the time not occupied in the fields in weaving at 
home; and Robert Peel accordingly began the domes- 
tic trade of calico-making. He was honest, and made 
an honest article; thrifty and hard-working, and his 
trade prospered. He was also enterprising, and was 
one of the first to adopt the carding cylinder, then re- 
cently invented. 

But Robert Peel's attention was principally directed 
to the 'printing of calico — then a comparatively un- 
known art — and for some time he carried on a series of 
experiments with the object of printing by machinery. 
The experiments were secretly conducted in his own 
house, the cloth being ironed for the purpose by one of 
the women of the family. It was then customary in 
such houses as the Peels, to use pewter plates at dinner. 
Having sketched a figure or pattern on one of the 
plates, the thought struck him that an impression might 
be got from it in reverse, and printed on calico with 



406 The First Robert Peel 

color. In a cottage at the end of the farm-house lived 
a woman who kept a calendering machine, and going 
into her cottage, he put the plate with color rubbed 
into the figured part and some calico over it, through 
the machine, when it was found to leave a satisfactory 
impression. Such is said to have been the origin of 
roller-printing on calico. Robert Peel shortly perfected 
his process, and the first pattern he brought out was a 
parsley-leaf; hence he is spoken of in the neighborhood 
of Blackburn to this day as" Parsley Peel." The pro- 
cess of calico-printing by what is called the mule ma- 
chine — that is, by means of a wooden cylinder in relief, 
with an engraved copper cylinder — was afterwards 
brought to perfection by one of his sons, the head of the 
firm of Messrs. Peel & Co., of Church. Stimulated by 
his success, Robert Peel shortly gave up farming, and 
removing to Brookside, a village about two miles from 
Blackburn, he devoted himself exclusively to the print- 
ing business. There, with the aid of his sons, who were 
as energetic as himself, he successfully carried on the 
trade for several years; and as the young men grew up 
towards manhood, the concern branched out into vari- 
ous firms of Peels, each of which became a centre of 
industrial activity and a source of remunerative employ- 
ment to large numbers of people. 

From what can now be learned of the character of 
the original and untitled Robert Peel, he must have been 
a remarkable man — shrewd, sagacious, and far-seeing. 
But little is known of him excepting from tradition, and 



The First Sir Robert Peel 407 

the sons of those who knew him are fast passing away. 
His son, Sir Robert, thus modestly spoke of him: — 
u My father may be truly said to have been the founder 
of our family; and he so accurately appreciated the 
importance of commercial wealth in a national point of 
view, that he was often heard to say that the gains to 
individuals were small compared with the national gains 
arising from trade. " 

Sir Robert Peel, the first baronet and the second man- 
ufacturer of the name, inherited all h^is father's enter- 
prise, ability, and industry. His position, at starting 
in life, was little above that of an ordinary working 
man; for his father, though laying the foundations of 
future prosperity, was still struggling with the difficul- 
ties arising from insufficient capital. When Robert was 
only twenty years of age, he determined to begin the 
business of cotton-printing, which he had by this time 
learned from his father, on his own account. His uncle, 
James Haworth, and William Yates of Blackburn, 
joined him in his enterprise; the whole capital which 
they could raise amongst them amounted to only about 
£500, the principal part of which was furnished by Wil- 
liam Yates. The father of the latter was a householder 
in Blackburn, where he was well known and much re- 
spected; and having saved money by his business, he 
was willing to advance sufficient to give his son a start 
in the lucrative trade of cotton-printing, then in its 
infancy. Robert Peel, though comparative a mere 
youth, supplied the practical knowledge of the busi- 



408 Yates, Peel & Co. 

ness; but it was said of him, and proved true, that he 
" carried an old head on young shoulders." A ruined 
corn-mill, with its adjacent fields, was purchased for a 
comparatively small sum, near the then insignificant 
town of Bury, where the works long after continued to 
be known as " The Ground;" and a few wooden sheds 
having been run up, the firm commenced their cotton- 
printing business in a very humble way^ in the year 
1770, adding to it that of cotton-spinning a few years 
later. The frugal style in which the partners lived may 
be inferred from the following incident in their early 
career, William Yates being a married man with a 
family, commenced house-keeping on a small scale, and, 
to oblige Peel, who was single, he agreed to take him 
as a lodger. The sum which the latter first paid for 
board and lodging was only 85. a week; but Yates, 
considering this too little, insisted on the weekly pay- 
ment being increased a shilling, to which Peel at first 
demurred, and a difference between the partners took 
place, which was eventually compromised by the lodger 
paying an advance of sixpence a week. William Yate's 
eldest child was a girl named Ellen, and she very soon 
became an especial favorite with the young lodger. On 
returning from his hard day's work at " The Ground," 
he would take the little girl upon his knee, and say to 
her, " Nelly, thou bonny little dear, wilt be my wife?" 
to which the child would readily answer, " Yes," as any 
child would do. "Then I'll wait for thee, Nelly; I'll 
wed thee, and none else." And Robert Peel did wait. 






Lady Peel. 40tf 

As the girl grew in beauty towards womanhood, his de- 
termination to wait for her was strengthened; and after 
the lapse of ten years — years of close application to bus- 
iness . and rapidly increasing prosperity — Robert Peel 
married Ellen Yates when she had completed her sev- 
enteenth year; and the pretty child, whom her moth- 
er's lodger and father's partner had nursed upon his 
knee, became Mrs. Peel, and eventually Lady Peel, the 
mother of the future Prime Minister of England. Lady 
Peel was a noble and beautiful woman, fitted to grace 
any station in life. She possessed rare powers of mind, 
and was, on every emergency, the high-souled and faith- 
ful counsellor of her husband. For many years after 
their marriage, she acted as his amanuensis, conduct- 
ing the principal part of his business correspondence, 
for Mr. Peel himself was an indifferent and almost unin- 
telligible writer. She died in 1803, only three years 
after the* Baronetcy had been conferred upon her hus- 
band. It is said that London fashionable life — so^un- 
like what she had been accustomed to at home — proved 
injurious to her health; and old Mr. Yates afterwards 
used to say, "If Robert hadn't made our Nelly a ' lady,' 
she might ha' been living yet." 

The career of Yates, Peel, and Co. was throughout 
one of great and uninterrupted prosperity. Sir Robert 
Peel himself was the soul of the firm ; to great energy 
and application uniting much practical sagacity, and 
first rate mercantile abilities — qualities in which many 
of the early cotton-spinners were exceedingly deficient. 



410 Sir Robert Peel. 

He was a man of iron mind and frame, and toiled 
unceasingly. In short, he was to cotton-printing what 
Arkwright was to cotton-spinning, and his success 
was equally great. The excellence of the articles pro- 
duced by the firm secured the command of the market, 
and the character of the firm stood pre-eminent in Lan- 
cashire. Besides greatly benefiting Bury, the part- 
nership planted similar extensive works in the neigh- 
borhood, on the Irwell and the Roch; and it was cited 
to their honor, that, while they sought to raise to the 
highest perfection the quality of their manufactures, 
they also endeavored, in all ways, to promote the well- 
being and comfort of their work-people ; for whom they 
contrived to provide remunerative employment even in 
the least prosperous times. 

Sir Robert Peel readily appreciated the value of all 
new processes and inventions, in illustration of which 
we may allude to his adoption of the process for produ- 
cing what it is called resist work in calico-printing. This 
is accomplished by the use of a paste, or resist, on such 
parts of the cloth as were intended to remain white. 
The person who discovered the paste was a traveller 
for a London house, who sold it to Mr. Peel for an in- 
considerable sum. It required the experience of a year 
or two to perfect the system and make it practically 
useful; but the beauty of its effect, and the extreme 
precision of outline in the pattern produced, at once 
placed the Bury establishment at the head- of all the 
factories for calico-printing in the country. Other 






William Lee. 411 

firms conducted with like spirit, were established by 
members of the same family at Burnley, Foxhill bank, 
and Altham, in Lancashire; Salley Abbey, in York- 
shire; and afterwards at Burton-on-Trent, in Stafford- 
shire; these various establishments, whilst they brought 
wealth to their proprietors, setting an example to the 
whole cotton trade, and training up many of the most 
successful printers and manufacturers in Lancashire. 

Among other distinguished founders of industry, the 
Rev. William Lee, inventor of the s\tocking-frame, and 
John Heathcoat, inventor of the Bobbin-net Machine, 
are worthy of notice, as men of great mechanical skill 
and perseverance, through whose labors a vast amount 
of remunerative employment has been provided for the 
laboring population of Nottingham and the adjacent 
districts. The accounts which have been preserved of 
the circumstances counected with the invention of the 
Stocking-frame are very confused, and in many respects 
contradictory, though there is no doubt as to the name 
of the inventor. This was William Lee, born at 
Woodborough, a village some seven miles from Not- 
tingham, about the year 1563. According to some 
accounts, he was the heir to a small freehold, while 
according to others he was a poor scholar, and had to 
struggle with poverty from his earliest years. He en- 
tered as a sizar at Christ College, Cambridge, in May, 
1579, and subsequently removed to St. John's, taking 
his degree of B.A. in 1582, '83. It is believed that he 
commenced M.A. in i586; but on this point there 



412 Origin of the Stocking- Loom. 

appears to be some confusion in the records of the 
University. The statement usually made that he was 
expelled for marrying contrary to the statutes, is 
incorrect, as he was never a fellow of the University, 
and therefore could not be prejudiced by taking such a 
step. 

At the time when Lee invented the Stocking-frame 
he was officiating as curate of Calverton, near Notting 
ham; and it is alleged by some writers that the inven- 
tion had its origin in disappointed affection. The 
curate is said to have fallen deeply in love with a young 
lady of the village, who failed to reciprocate his affec- 
tions; and when he visited her, she was accustomed to 
pay much more attention to the process of knitting 
stockings and instructing her pupils in the art, than to 
the addresses of her admirer. This slight is said to 
have created in his mind such an aversion to knitting 
by hand, that he formed the determination to invent a 
machine that should supersede it and render it a gain- 
less employment. For three years he devoted himself 
to the prosecution of the invention, sacrificing every 
thing to his new idea. As the prospect of success 
opened before him, he abandoned his curacy, and 
devoted himself to the art of stocking making by 
machinery. This is the version of the story given by 
Henson on the authority of an old stocking maker, 
who died in Collins's Hospital, Nottingham, aged nine- 
ty-two, and was apprenticed in the town during the 
reign of Queen Anne. It is also given by Deering and 



William Lee. 413 

Blackner as the traditional account in the neighborhood, 
and it is in some measure borne out by the arms of the 
London Company of Framework Knitters, which con- 
sists of a stocking-frame without the woodwork, with a 
clergyman on one side and a woman on the other as 
supporters. 

Whatever may have been the actual facts as to the 
origin of the invention of the Stocking-loom, there can 
be no doubt as to the extraordinary mechanical genius 
displayed by its inventor. That a clergyman living in 
a remote village, whose life had for the most part been 
spent with books, should contrive a machine of such 
delicate and complicated movements, and at once 
advance the art of knitting from the tedious process of 
linking threads to a chain of loops by three skewers in 
the fingers of a woman to the beautiful and rapid pro- 
cess of weaving by the Stocking-frame, was indeed an 
astonishing achievement, which may be pronounced 
almost unequalled in the history of mechanical inven- 
tion. Lee's merit was all the greater, as the handicraft 
arts were then in their infancy, and little attention had 
as yet been given to the contrivance of machinery for 
the purposes of manufacture. He was under the 
necessity of extemporising the parts of his machine as 
he best could, and adopting various expedients to over- 
come difficulties as they arose. His tools were imper- 
fect, and his materials imperfect; and he had no skilled 
workmen to assist him. According to tradition, the 
first frame he made was a twelve gauge, without lead 



414 Invention of the Stocking- Loom. 

sinkers, and it was almost wholly of wood; the needles 
being also stuck in bits of wood. One of Lee's princi- 
pal difficulties consisted in the formation of the stitch, 
for want of needle eyes; but this he eventually over- 
came by forming eyes to the needles with a three 
square file. At length one difficulty after another 
was succesfully overcome, and after three years 1 labor 
the machine was sufficiently complete to be fit for use. 
The quondam curate, full of enthusiasm for his art, now 
began stocking-weaving in the village of Calverton, and 
he continued to work there for several years, instruct- 
ing his brother James and several of his relations in the 
practice of the art. 

Having brought his frame to a considerable degree 
of perfection, and being desirous of securing the patron- 
age of Queen Elizabeth, whose partiality for knitted 
silk stockings was well known, Lee proceeded to Lon- 
don to exhibit the loom before her Majesty. He first 
showed it to several members of the court, among 
others to Sir William (afterwards Lord) Hunsdon, 
whom he taught to work it with success, and Lee was, 
through their instrumentality, at length admitted to an 
interview with the Queen, and worked the machine in 
her presence. Elizabeth, however, did not give him 
the encouragement that he had expected; and she is 
said to have opposed the invention on the ground that it 
was calculated to deprive a large number of poor people 
of their employment of hand-knitting. Lee was no more 
successful in rinding other patrons; and considering 






William Lee. 415 

himself and his invention treated with contempt, he 
embraced the offer made to him by Sully, the sagacious 
minister of Henry IV., to proceed to Rouen and instruct 
the operatives of that town — then one of the most im- 
portant manufacturing centres of France — -in the con- 
struction and use of the Stocking-frame. Lee accord- 
ingly transferred himself and his machines to France, ia 
1605, taking with him his brother and seven workmen. 
He met with a cordial reception at Rouen, and was 
proceeding with the manufacture of stockings on a 
large scale — having nine of his frames in full work — 
when unhappily ill fortune again overtook him. Henry 
IV., his protector, on whom he had relied for the 
rewards, honors, and promised grant of privileges, 
which had induced Lee to settle in France, was mur- 
dered by the fanatic Ravaillac, and the encouragement 
and protection which had heretofore been extended to 
him were at once withdrawn. To press his claims at 
court, Lee proceeded to Paris; but being a Protestant 
as well as a foreigner, his representations were treated 
with neglect; and worn out with vexation and grief, 
this distinguished inventor shortly after died at Paris, in 
a state of extreme poverty and distress. 

Lee's brother, with seven of the workmen, succeeded 
in escaping from France with their frames, leaving two 
behind. On James Lee's return to Nottinghamshire, 
he was joined by one Ashton, a miller of Thoroton, 
who had been instructed in the art of framework knit- 
ting by the inventor himself before he left England. 



416 Success of the Stocking-Loom. 

These two, with the workmen and their frames, began 
the stocking manufacture at Thoroton, and carried it 
on with considerable success. The place was favor- 
ably situated for the purpose, as the sheep pastured in 
the neighboring district of Sherwood yielded a kind of 
wool of the longest staple. Ashton is said to have in- 
troduced the method of making the frames with lead 
sinkers, which was a great improvement. The number 
of looms employed in different parts of England grad- 
ually increased ; and the machine manufacture of stock- 
ings eventually became an important branch of the 
antional industry. 




CHAPTER XXXV. 

LEADERS OF INDUSTRY INVENTORS AND PRODUCERS. 

John Heathcoat, Inventor of the Robbin-net Machine. — His Early Life, 
His Ingenuity, and Plodding Perseverance. — Invention of his Machine. 
— Anecdote of Lord Lyndhurst. — Progress of the Lace-trade. — Heathcoat's 
Machines Destroyed by the Luddites. — His Character. — Jacquard: his 
Inventions and Adventures. — Vaucanson: his Mechanical Genius, Im- 
provements in Silk Manufacture. — Jacquard Improves Vaucanson's Ma- 
chine. — The Jacquard Loom Adopted. — Joshua Heilman, Inventor of the 
Combing-machine. — History of the Invention. — Its Value. 

' ' Neither the naked hand, nor the understanding, left to itself, can do 
much; the work is accomplished by instruments and helps of which the 
need is not less for the understanding than the hand. " — Bacon. 

/"\NE of the most important modifications in the 
^^ Stocking-frame was that which enabled it to be 
applied to the manufacture of lace on a large scale. In 
1 777, two workmen, Frost and Holmes, were both en- 
gaged making point-net by means of the modifications 
they had introduced in the stocking frame; and in the 
course of about thirty years, so rapid was the growth 
of this branch of production, that 1 500 point-net frames 
were at work, giving employment to upwards of 15,000 
people. Owing, however, to the war, to change of 
fashion, and to other circumstances, the Nottingham 
lace manufacture rapidly fell off; and it continued in a 
27 417 



418 John Heathcoat. 

decaying state until the invention of the bobbin-net ma- 
chine by John Heathcoat, late M.P. for Tiverton, which 
had the effect of at once re-establishing the manufacture 
on solid foundations. 

John Heathcoat was the son of a cottage farmer at 
Long Whalton, Leicestershire, where he was born in 
1 784. He was taught to read and write at the village 
school, but was shortly removed from it to be put ap« 
prentice to a framesmith in a neighboring village. The 
boy soon learnt to handle tools with dexterity, and he 
acquired a minute knowledge of the parts of which the 
stocking-frame was composed, as well as of the more 
intricate warp-machine. At his leisure he studied how 
to introduce improvements in them, and his friend Mr. 
Bazley, M.P., states that as early as the age of sixteen 
he conceived the idea of inventing a machine by which 
lace might be made similar to Buckingham or French 
lace, then all made by hand. The first practical im- 
provement he succeeded in introducing was in the 
warp-frame; when, by means of an ingenious apparatus,, 
he succeeded in producing " mitts" of a lacey appear- 
ance; and it was this success which determined him to 
pursue the study of mechanical lace-making. The 
stocking-frame had already, in a modified form, been 
applied to the manufacture of point-net lace; in which 
the mesh was looped, as in a stocking; but the work 
was slight and frail, and therefore unsatisfactory. Many 
ingenious Nottingham mechanics had during a long suc- 
cession of years been laboring at the problem of invent- 



John Heathcoat. 419 

ing a machine by which the mesh of threads should be 
t-wisted round each other on the formation of the net. 
Some of these men died in poverty, some were driven 
insane, and all alike failed in the object of their search. 
The old warp-machine held its ground. 

When a little over twenty-one years of age, Heath- 
coat married, and went to. Nottingham in search of 
work. He there found employment as a smith and 
" setter-up" of hosiery and warp-frames. He also con- 
tinued to pursue the subject on which his mind had be- 
fore been occupied, and labored to compass the contri- 
vance of a twist traverse net-machine. He first studied 
the art of making the Buckingham or pillow-lace by 
hand, with the object of effecting the same motions by 
mechanical means. It was a long and laborious task, 
requiring the exercise of great perseverance and no little 
ingenuity. His master, Elliott, described him at that 
time as plodding, patient, self-denying, and taciturn, 
undaunted by failures and mistakes, full of resources and 
expedients, and entertaining the most perfect confidence 
that his application of mechanical principles would 
eventually be crowned with success. During this time 
his wife was kept in almost as great anxiety as himself. 
She well knew of his struggles and difficulties, and she 
even began to feel the pressure of poverty on her house- 
hold ; for while he was laboring at his invention, he was 
frequently under the necessity of laying aside the work 
that brought in the weekly wage. Many years after, 
when all difficulties had been successfully overcome, the 



420 The Robin-Net Machine. 

conversation which took place between husband and 
wife one eventful Saturday evening was vividly remem- 
bered. " Well, John," said the anxious wife, looking 
in her husband's face, "will it work?" " No, Anne," 
was the sad answer, " I have had to take it all in pieces 
again." Though he could still speak hopefully and 
cheerfully, his poor wife could restrain her feelings no 
longer, but sat down and cried bitterly. She had, how- 
ever, only a few more weeks to wait ; for success, long 
labored for and richly deserved, came at last; and a 
proud and happy man was John Heathcote when he 
brought home the first narrow strip of bobbin-net made 
by his machine, and placed it in the hands of his wife. 

It is difficult to describe in words an invention so 
complicated as the bobbin-net machine. It was indeed 
a mechanical pillow for making lace; imitating in an 
ingenious manner the motions of the lace-maker's fin- 
gers in intersecting or tying the meshes of the lace upon 
her pillow. On analyzing the component parts of a 
piece of hand-made lace, Heathcoat was enabled to clas- 
sify the threads into longitudinal and diagonal. He 
began his experiments by stretching common packing- 
threads across his room for the warp, and then passing 
the weft-threads between them by common plyers, de- 
livering them to other plyers on the opposite side; then, 
after giving them a sideways motion and twist, the 
threads were repassed back between the next adjoining 
cords, the meshes being thus tied in the same way as 
upon pillows by hand. He had then to contrive a mech- 



Heathcoafs Patent Disputed. 421 

anism that should accomplish all these nice and delicate 
movements ; and to do this cost him no small amount of 
bodily and mental toil. Long after, he said: " The sin- 
gle difficulty of getting the diagonal threads to twist in 
the allotted space was so great, that it had now to be 
done, I should probably not attempt its accomplish- 
ment." His next step was to provide thin metallic 
discs, to be used as bobbins for conducting the thread 
backward and forward through the warp. These discs, 
being arranged in carrier-frames, placed on each side 
of the warp, were moved by suitable machinery, so as 
to conduct the thread from side to side in forming the 
lace. He eventually succeeded in working out his 
principle with extraordinary skill and success, and at 
the age of twenty-four he was enabled to secure his 
invention by a patent. 

As in the case of nearly all inventions which have 
proved productive, Heathcoat's rights as a patentee 
were disputed, and his claims as an inventor called in 
question. On the supposed invalidity of the patent, 
the lace-makers boldly adopted the bobbin-net machine, 
and set the inventor at defiance. But other patents 
were taken out for alleged improvements and adapta- 
tions; and it was only when these new patentees fell 
out and went to law with each other that Heathcoat's 
rights became established. One lace manufacturer hav- 
ing brought an action against another for an alleged 
infringement of his patent, the jury brought in a ver- 
dict for the defendant, in which the judge concurred, 



422 Defended by Sir John Copley* 

on the ground that both the machines in question were 
infringements of Heathcoat's patent. It was on the 
occasion of this trial, "Boville vs. Moore," that Sir 
John Copley (afterwards Lord Lyndhurst,) who was 
retained for the defense in the interest of Mr. Heath- 
coat, learnt to work the bobbin-net machine in order 
that he might master the details of the invention. On 
reading over his brief, he confessed that he did not 
quite understand the merits of the case; but, as it 
seemed to him to be one of great importance, he offered 
to go down into the country forthwith and study the 
machine until he understood it; " and then," said he, 
" I will defend you to the best of my ability.' 1 He ac- 
cordingly put himself into that night's mail, and went 
down to Nottingham to get up his case as perhaps 
counsel never got it up before. Next morning the 
learned sergeant placed himself in a lace-loom, and he 
did not leave it until he could deftly make a piece of 
bobbin-net with his own hands, and thoroughly under- 
stood the principle as well as the details of the machine. 
When the case came on for trial, the learned sergeant 
was enabled to work the model on the table with such 
ease and skill, and to explain the precise nature of the 
invention with such felicitous clearness, as to astonish 
alike judge, jury, and spectators; and the thorough 
conscientiousness and mastery with which he handled 
the case had, no doubt, its influence upon the decision 
of the court. 

After the trial was over, Mr. Heathcoat, on inquiry, 



Destruction -of Machines. 423 

found about six hundred machines at work after his 
patent, and he proceeded to levy royalty upon the own- 
ers of them, which amounted to a large sum. But the 
profits realized by the manufacturers of lace were very 
great, and the use of the machines rapidly extended; 
while the price of the article was reduced from five 
pounds the square yard to about five pence in the course 
of twenty-five years. During the same period the 
average annual returns of the lace-trade have been at 
least four million sterling, and it gives remunerative 
employment to about 150,000 work-people. 

To return to the personal history of Mr. Heathcoat. 
In 1809 we find him established as a lace-manufacturer 
at Loughborough, in Leicestershire. There he carried 
on a prosperous business for several years, giving em- 
ployment to a large number of operatives, at wages 
varying from £5 to £10 a week. Notwithstanding the 
great increase in the number of hands employed in lace 
making through the introduction of the new machines, 
it began to be whispered about among the work-people 
that they were, superseding labor, and an extensive con- 
spiracy was formed for the purpose of destroying them 
wherever found. As early as the year 181 1 disputes 
arose between the masters and men engaged in the 
stocking and lace trades in the south-western parts of 
Nottinghamshire and the adjacent parts of Derbyshire 
and Leicestershire, the result of which was the assem- 
bly of a mob at Sutton, in Ashfield, who proceeded in 
open day to break the stocking and lace-frames of the 



424 -By the Luddites* 

manufacturers. Some of the ringleaders having been 
seized and punished, the disaffected learnt caution; but 
the distruction of the machines was nevertheless carried 
on secretly wherever a safe opportunity presented itself. 
As the machines were of so delicate a construction 
that a single blow of a hammer rendered them useless, 
and as the manufacture was carried on for the most 
part in detached buildings, often in private dwellings 
remote from towns, the opportunities of destroying them 
were unusually easy. In the neighborhood of Notting- 
ham, which was the focus of turbulence, the machine- 
breakers organized themselves in regular bodies, and 
held nocturnal meetings at which their plans were 
arranged. Probably with the view of inspiring confi- 
dence, they gave out that they were under the command 
of a leader named Ned Ludd, or General Ludd, and 
hence their designation of Luddites. Under this or- 
ganization machine-breaking was carried on with great 
vigor during the winter of 1811, occasioning great dis- 
tress, and throwing large numbers of work-people out 
of employment. Meanwhile, the owners of the frames 
proceeded to remove them from the villages and lone* 
dwellings in the country, and brought them into ware- 
houses in the towns for their better protection. 

The Luddites seem to have been encouraged by the 
lenity of the sentences pronounced on such of their 
confederates as had been apprehended and tried ; and, 
shortl} r after, the mania broke out afresh, and rapidly 
extended over the northern and midland manufacturing 



The Luddites. 4=2 o> 

districts. The organization became more secret; an. 
oath was administered to the members binding them 
to obedience to the orders issued by the heads of the 
confederacy; and the betrayal of their designs was 
decreed to be death. All machines were doomed by 
them to destruction, whether employed in the manufac- 
ture of cloth, calico, or lace; and a reign of terror be- 
gan which lasted for years. In Yorkshire and Lanca- 
shire mills were boldly attacked by armed rioters, and 
in many cases they were wrecked or burnt; so that it 
became necessary to guard them by soldiers and yeo- 
manry. The masters themselves were doomed to 
death; many of them were assaulted, and some were 
murdered. At length the law was vigorously set in 
motion; numbers of the misguided Luddites' were ap~ 
prehended; some were executed; and after several 
years' violent commotion from this cause, the machine- 
breaking riots were at length quelled. 

Among the numerous manufacturers whose works 
were attacked by the Luddites, was the inventor of the 
bobbin-net machine himself. One bright sunny day, 
in the summer of 1816, a body of rioters entered his 
factory at Loughborough with torches, and set fire to 
it, destroying thirty-seven lace-machines, and above 
£10,000 worth of property. Ten of the men were ap- 
prehended for the felon)', and eight of them were exe- 
cuted. Mr. Heathcoat made a claim upon the country 
for compensation, and it was resisted; but the Court 
of Queen's Bench decided in his favor, and decreed 



426 Heathcoat at Tiverton. 

that the county must make good his loss of £10,000. 
The magistrates sought to couple with the payment of 
the damage the condition that Mr. Heathcoat should 
expend the money in the county of Leicester; but to 
this he would not assent, having already resolved on 
removing his manufacture elsewhere. At Tiverton, in 
Devonshire, he found a large building which had been 
formerly used as a woolen manufactory; but the Tiv- 
erton cloth trade having fallen into decay, the building 
remained unoccupied, and the town itself was generally 
in a very poverty-stricken condition. Mr. Heathcoat 
bought the old mill, renovated and enlarged it, and there 
recommenced the manufacture of lace on a larger scale 
than before; keeping in full work as many as three 
hundred machines, and employing a large number of 
artisans at good wages. Not only did he carry on the 
manufacture of lace, but the various branches of busi- 
ness connected with it — yarn-doubling, silk-spinning, 
net-making, and finishing. He also established at Tiver- 
ton an iron-foundery and works for the manufacture of 
-agricultural implements, which proved of great con- 
venience to the district. It was a favorite idea of his 
that steam power was capable of being applied to per- 
form all the heavy drudgery of life, and he labored for 
a long time at the invention of a steam-plough. In 
1832 he so far completed his invention as to be enabled 
to take out a patent for it; and Heathcoat's steam- 
plough, though it has since been superseded by Fow- 
ler's, was considered the best machine of the kind that 



Heathcoat at Tiverton. 427 

had up to that time been invented. Mr. Heathcoat 
was a man of great natural gifts. He possessed a 
sound understanding, quick perception, and a genius 
for business of the highest order. With these, he 
combined uprightness, honesty, and integrity — qual- 
ities which are the true glory of human character. 
Himself a diligent self-educator, he gave ready encour- 
agement to deserving youths in his employment, stimu- 
lating their talents and fostering their energies. During 
his own busy life, he contrived to save time to master 
French and Italian, of which he acquired an accurate 
and grammatical knowledge. His mind was largely 
stored with the results of a careful study of the best 
literature, and there were few subjects on which he 
had not formed for himself shrewd and accurate views. 
The two thousand work-people in his employment re- 
garded him almost as a father, and he carefully provi- 
ded for their comfort and improvement. Prosperity did 
not spoil him, as it does so many; nor close his heart 
against the claims of the poor and struggling, who were 
always sure of his sympathy and help. To provide for 
the education of the children of his work-people, he 
built schools for them at a cost of about £6,000. He 
was also a man of singularly cheerful and buoyant dis- 
position, a favorite with men of all classes, and most 
admired and beloved by those who knew him best. 

In 1 83 1 the electors of Tiverton, of which town Mr. 
Heathcoat had proved himself so genuine a benefactor, 
returned him to represent them in Parliament, and he 



428 Jacquard. 

continued their member for nearly thirty years. Dur- 
ing a great part of that time he had Lord Palmerston 
for his colleague, and the noble lord, on more than one 
public occasion, expressed the high regard which he 
entertained for his venerable friend. On retiring from 
the representation in 1859, owing to advancing age and 
increasing infirmities, thirteen hundred of his workmen 
presented him with a silver inkstand and gold pen, in 
token of their esteem. He enjoyed his leisure for only 
two more years, dying in January, 1861, at the age of 
seventy-seven, and leaving behind him a character for 
probity, virtue, manliness, and mechanical genius, of 
which his descendants may well be proud. 

We next turn to a career of a very different kind, 
that of the illustrious but unfortunate Jacquard, whose 
life also illustrates in a remarable manner the influence 
which ingenious men, even of the humblest rank, may 
exercise upon the industry of a nation. Jacquard was 
the son of a hard-working couple of Lyons, his father 
being a weaver, and his mother a pattern-reader. They 
were too poor to give him any but the most meagre 
education. When he was of age to learn a trade, his 
father placed him with a book-binder. An old clerk, 
who made up the master's accounts, gave Jacquard 
some lessons in mathematics. He very shortly began 
to display a remarkable turn for mechanics, and some 
of his contrivances quite astonished the old clerk, who 
advised Jacquard's father to put him to some other 
trade, in which his peculiar abilities might have better 



Jacquard. 429 

scope than in book-binding. He was accordingly put 
apprentice to a cutler; but he was so badly treated by 
his master that he shortly afterwards left his employ- 
ment, on which he was placed with a type-founder. 

His parents dying, Jacquard found himself in a meas- 
ure compelled to take to his father's two looms, and 
carry on the trade of a weaver. He immediatel} 7 pro- 
ceeded to improve the looms, and became so engrossed 
with his inventions that he forgot his work, and very 
soon found himself at the end of his means. He then 
sold the looms to pay his debts, at the same time that 
he took upon himself the burden of supporting a wife. 
He became still poorer, and to satisfy his creditors he 
next sold his cottage. He tried to find employment, 
but in vain, people believing him to be an idler, occu- 
pied with mere dreams about his inventions. At length 
he obtained employment with a line-maker of Bresse, 
whither he went, his wife remaining at Lyons, earning 
a precarious living by making straw bonnets. 

We hear nothing further of Jacquard for some years, 
but in the interval he seems to have prosecuted his im- 
provement in the draw- loom for the better manufacture 
of figured fabrics; for, in 1790, he brought out his con- 
trivance for selecting the warp threads, which, when 
added to the loom, superseded the services of a draw- 
boy. The adoption of this machine was slow but steady, 
and in ten years after its introduction, 4,000 of them 
were found at work in Lyons. Jacquard 's pursuits 
were rudely interrupted by the Revolution, and in 1792, 



430 The Draw-Loom,, 

we find him fighting in the ranks of the Lyonaise Vol- 
unteers against the Army of the Convention under the 
command of Dubois Crance. The city was* taken; 
Jacquard fled and joined the Army of the Rhine, where 
he rose to the rank of a sergeant. He might have re- 
mained a soldier, but that, his only son having been 
shot dead at his side, he deserted and returned to Lyons 
to recover his wife. He found her in a garret, still em- 
ployed at her old trade of straw-bonnet making. While 
living in concealment with her, his mind reverted to the 
inventions over which he had so long brooded in for- 
mer years; but he had no means wherewith to prose- 
cute them. Jacquard found it necessary, however, to 
emerge from his hiding-place and try to find some em- 
ployment. He succeeded in obtaining it with an intel- 
ligent manufacturer, and while working by day he went 
on inventing by night. It had occurred to him that 
great improvements might still be introduced in looms 
for figured goods, and he incidentally mentioned the 
subject one day. to his master, regretting at the same 
time that his limited means prevented him from carry- 
ing out his ideas. Happily the master appreciated the 
value of the suggestions, and with laudable generosity 
placed a sum of money at his disposal, that he might 
prosecute the proposed improvements at his leisure. 

In three months Jacquard had invented a loom to 
substitute mechanical action for the irksome and toil- 
some labor of the workman. The loom was exhibited 
at the Exposition of National Industry at Paris, in 1801, 



JacquarcVs other Inventions. 431 

and obtained a bronze medal. Jacquard was further 
honored by a visit at Lyons from the Minister Carnot, 
who desired to congratulate him in person on the suc- 
cess of his invention. In* the following year the Society 
of Arts in London offered a prize for the invention of a 
machine for manufacturing fishing-nets and boarding- 
netting for ships. Jacquard heard of this, and while 
walking one day in the fields, according to his custom, 
he turned the subject over in his mind, and contrived 
the plan of a machine for the purpose. His friend, the 
manufacturer, again furnished him with the means of 
carrying out his idea, and in three weeks Jacquard had 
completed his invention. 

Jacquard's achievement having come to the knowl- 
edge of the Prefect of the Department, he was summon- 
ed before that functionary, and, on his explanation of 
the working of the machine, a report on the subject was 
forwarded to the Emperor. The inventor was forthwith 
summoned to Paris with his machine, and brought into 
the presence of the Emperor, who received him with 
the consideration due to his genius. The interview 
lasted two hours, during which Jacquard, placed at his 
ease by the Emperor's affability t explained to him the 
improvements which he proposed to make in the looms 
for weaving figured goods. The result was that he 
was provided with apartments in the Conservatoire des 
Arts et Metiers, where he had the use of the workshop 
during his stay, and was provided with a suitable al- 
lowance for his maintenance. 



432 Jacquard — Vaucanson. 

Installed in the Conservatoire, Jacquard proceeded 
to complete the details of his improved loom. He had 
the advantage of minutely inspecting the various ex- 
quisite pieces of mechanism contained in that great 
treasury of human ingenuity. Among the machines 
which more particularly attracted his attention, and 
eventually set him upon the track of his discovery, was 
a loom for weaving flowered silk, made by Vaucanson, 
the celebrated automaton-maker. 

Vaucanson was a man of the highest order of con- 
structive genius. The inventive faculty was so strong 
in him that it may almost be said to have amounted to 
a passion, and could not be restrained. The saying that 
the poet was born, not made, applies with equal force to 
the inventor, who, though indebted, like the other, to 
culture and improved opportunities, nevertheless con- 
trives and construct new combinations of machinery 
mainly to gratify his own instinct. This was peculiar- 
ly the case with Vaucanson; for his most elaborate 
works were not so much distinguished for their utility 
as for the curious ingenuity which they displayed. 
While a mere boy, attending Sunday conversations with 
his mother, he amused himself by watching, through 
the clinks of a partition wall, part of the movements 
of a clock in the adjoining apartment. He endeavored 
to understand them, and, by brooding over the subject, 
after several months he discovered the principle of the 
escapement. 

From that time the subject of mechanical invention 



Vaucanson's Automata. 433 

took complete possession of him. With some rude 
tools which he contrived, he made a wooden clock that 
marked the hours with remarkable exactness ; while he 
made for a miniature chapel the figures of some angels 
which waved their wings, and some priests that made 
several ecclesiastical movements. With the view of 
executing some other automata he had designed, he 
proceeded to study anatomy, music, and mechanics, 
which occupied him for several years. The sight of the 
flute-player in the Gardens of the Tuileries inspired him 
with the resolution to invent a similar figure that 
should play; and after several years' study and labor, 
though struggling with illness, he succeeded in accom- 
plishing his object. He next produced a flageolet- 
player, which was succeeded by a duck — the most 
ingenious of his contrivances — which swam, dabbled, 
drank, and quacked like a real duck. He next invented 
an asp, employed in the tragedy of " Cleopatre," which 
hissed and darted at the bosom of the actress. 

Vaucanson, however, did not confine himself merely 
to the making of automata. By reason of his ingenuity, 
Cardinal de Fleury appointed him inspector of the 
silk manufactories of France; and he was no sooner in 
office, than with his usual irrepressible instinct to 
invent, he proceeded to introduce improvements in silk 
machinery. One of these was his mill for thrown silk, 
which so excited the anger of the Lyons operatives, 
who feared the loss of employment through his means, 
that they pelted him with stones and had nearly killed 
28 



434 Jacquard: His Loom, 

him. He nevertheless went on inventing, and next 
produced a machine for weaving flowered silks, with a 
contrivance for giving a dressing to the thread, so as to 
render that of each bobbin or skein of an equal thickness. 

When Vaucanson died in 1782, after a long illness, he 
bequeathed his collection of machines to the Queen y 
who seems to have set but small value on them, and 
they were shortly after dispersed. But his machine for 
weaving flowered silks were happily preserved in the 
Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers, and there Jacquard 
found it among the many curious and interesting arti- 
cles in the collection. It proved to the utmost value 
to him for it immediately set him on the track of the 
principal modification which he introduced in his im- 
proved loom. 

One of the chief features of Vaucanson 's machine was 
a pierced cylinder, which, according to the holes it pre- 
sented when revolved, regulated the movement of cer- 
tain needles, and caused the threads of the warp to de- 
viate in such a manner as to produce a given design, 
though only of a simple character. Jacquard seized 
upon the suggestion with avidity, and, with the 
genius of the true inventor, at once proceeded to im- 
prove upon it. At the end of a month his weaving 
machine was completed. To the cylinder of Vaucan- 
son he added an endless piece of pasteboard pierced 
with a number of holes, through which the threads ol 
the warp were presented to the weaver; while another 
piece of mechanism indicated to the workman tne 



Jacquard: His Loom. 435 

color of the shuttle which he ought to throw. Thus 
the drawboy and the reader of designs were both at 
once superseded. The first use Jacquard made of his 
new loom was to weave with it several yards of rich 
stuff which he presented to the Empress Josephine. 
Napoleon was highly gratified with the result of the 
inventor's labors, and ordered a number of the looms 
to be constructed by the best workmen after Jacquard's 
model, and presented to him; after which he returned 
to Lyons. 

There he experienced the frequent fate of inventors. 
He was regarded by his townsmen as an enemy, and 
treated by them as Kay, Hargreaves, and Arkwright 
had been in Lancashire. The workmen looked upon 
the new loom as fatal to their trade, and feared lest it 
should at once take the bread from their mouths. A 
tumultuous meeting was held on the Place des Ter- 
reaux, when it was determined to destroy the machines. 
This was however prevented by the military. But 
Jacquard was denounced and hanged in effigy. The 
" Conseil des prud'hommes " in vain endeavored to 
allay the excitement, and they were themselves de- 
nounced. At length, carried away by the popular 
impulse, the prud'hommes, most of whom had been 
workmen and sympathized with the class, had one of 
Jacquard's looms carried off and publicly broken in 
pieces. Riots followed, in one of which Jacquard was 
dragged along the quay by an infuriated mob intending 
to drown him, but he was rescued. 



436 Value of the Jacquard Loom. 

The great value of the Jacquard loom, however, 
could not be denied, and its success was only a question 
of time. Jacquard was urged by some English silk 
manufacturers to pass over into England and settle 
there. But notwithstanding the harsh and cruel treat- 
ment he had received at the hands of his towns-people, 
his patriotism was too strong to permit him to accept 
their offer. The English manufacturers, however, 
adopted his loom. Then it was, and only then, that 
Lyons, threatened to be beaten out of the field, adopted 
it with eagerness ; and before long the Jacquard machine 
was employed in nearly all kinds of weaving. The 
result proved that the fears of the work-people had been 
entirely unfounded. Instead of diminishing employ- 
ment, the Jacquard loom increased it at least tenfold. 
The number of persons occupied in the manufacture of 
figured goods in Lyons, was stated by M. Leon Faucher 
to have been 60,000 in 1833; and that number has 
since been considerably increased. 

As for Jacquard himself, the rest of his life passed 
peacefully, excepting that the work-people who dragged 
him along the quay to drown him were shortly after 
found eager to bear him in triumph along the same 
route in celebration of his birthday. But his modesty 
would not permit him to take part in such a demon- 
stration. The Municipal Council of Lyons proposed to 
him that he should devote himself to improving his 
machine for the benefit of the local industry, to which 
Jacquard agreed in consideration of a moderate pen- 



JacquarcVs Death 437 

sion, the amount of which was fixed by himself. After 
perfecting his invention accordingly he retired at sixty 
to end his days at Oullins, his father's native place. It 
was there that he received, in 1820, the decoration of 
the Legion of Honor; and it was there that he died 
and was buried in 1834. A statue was erected to his 
memory, but his relatives remained in poverty; and 
twenty years after his death, his two nieces were under 
the necessity of selling for a few hundred francs the 
gold medal bestowed upon their uncle by Louis XVIII. 
u Such," says a French writer, " was the gratitude of 
the manufacturing interests of Lyons to the man to 
whom it owes so large a portion of its splendor." 

At this point we cannot pass without noticing briefly 
the invention of printing, and its founder, John Guten- 
berg. Although driven, with his parents, from his 
boyhood's home and deprived of all resources, save those 
of character, he furnishes us with a grand illustration of 
what energy and determination may accomplish. 

In all the galaxy of great inventors, no star of 
brighter or more constant ray, shines down through 
the ages, with increasing brilliancy to enlighten the 
intellect of mankind. 

It has been said of him that he invented " the art 
preservative of all arts;" yet obscurity and poverty well 
nigh robbed his name of the honor. 

But while the names of Lawrence Coster, Peter 
Schoeffer and John Faust are all associated, in history, 
with the invention of printing, it remains unquestioned 



438 Invention of Printing. 

among the more reliable authorities, that John Guten- 
burg of Mentz was the inventor of the art of printing by 
movable types, which has done more to civilize the 
world than all the armies that have ever been mustered. 
Carlisle says, in his comparison of the sword and the 
press, " When Tamerlane had finished building his 
pyramid of seventy thousand human skulls, and was 
seen standing at the gate of Damascus, glittering in his 
steel, with his battle-axe on his shoulder, till his fierce 
hosts filed out to new victories and carnage, the pale 
looker-on might have fancied that nature was in her 
death-throes; for havoc and despair had taken possession 
of the earth, and the sun of manhood seemed setting in 
a sea of blood. 

Yet it might be on that very gala-day of Tamerlane 
that a little boy was playing nine-pins in the streets of 
Mentz, whose history was more important than that cf 
twenty Tamerlanes. The Khan, with his shaggy de- 
mons of the wilderness, passed away like a whirlwind, 
to be forgotten forever; and that German artisan 
wrought a benefit which is yet immeasurably expanding 
itself, and will continue to expand itself, through all 
countries and all times. 

What are the conquests and expeditions of the wnole 
corporation of captains, from Walter, the Penniless, to 
Napoleon Bonaparte, compared with those movable 
types?" 

John Gutenburg was born at Mentz, about 1400. The 
name Gutenburg was the mother's maiden name and 



John Gutenburg. 439 

was adopted by John, his father's name being Gans- 
fleisch. 

When he was but ten years of age, the family, with 
many others, were driven from Mentz and took refuge 
at Strasburg. 

As early as 1427, he had produced a new process for 
polishing stone, and later an improved method for man- 
ufacturing looking-glasses. 

In 1437 he married, and soon after, his active mind 
again turned to invention. Printing now engaged 
his attention and ever struggling with poverty, inter- 
esting friends and capitalists to secure the small amount 
of money needed to carry forward the enterprise, living 
in the most straightened circumstances, but with never 
failing energy and determination of purpose he applied 
himself for eight years before being able to show solid 
and convincing proofs of the success of his art. 

Returning to his native town he entered into a part- 
nership with John Faust to secure capital to carry on 
the work and after twelve years of close application 
during which time many improvements were made, he 
brought out the first book ever printed. This was the 
Latin Bible completed in 1455. 

It is interesting to notice here the jealousy and oppo- 
sition with which the new art was received by those 
accustomed to gain wealth by copying and writing 
manuscripts, and who did not realize that " of the mak- 
ing of books there is no end. 1 ' 

True fortitude and perseverance are never fully 



440 Death of Gutenburg. 

proved till tried by adversity. In 1462 when Guten- 
burg should have enjoyed the result of his labor Mentz 
was sacked by Adolphus II. and all his property 
destroyed. He was now in the evening of life, but with 
characteristic perseverance he began anew. 

The art progressed slowly however, embarrassments 
still attending him until in 1465 he accepted the position 
of courtier from which he received a small income 

In 1468 he died without children, almost without 
friends; but having laid the foundations for an art so 
soon to dominate the world. A monument was placed 
over his grave, and twenty years later a memorial tablet 
was erected at the legal college in Mentz. 

It would be easy to extend the martyrology of inven- 
tors, and to cite the names of other equally distinguished 
men who have, without any corresponding advantage 
to themselves, contributed to the industrial progress of 
the age — for it has too often happened that genius 
has planted the tree, of which patient dullness has 
gathered the fruit; but we will confine ourselves for 
the present to a brief account of an inventor of com- 
paratively recent date, by way of illustration of the 
difficulties and privations which it is so frequently the 
lot of mechanical genius to surmount. We allude to 
Joshua Heilmann, the inventor of the combing-ma- 
chine. 

Heilmann was born in 1795, at Muihouse, the principal 
seat of the Alsace cotton manufacture. His father was 
engaged in that business, and Joshua entered his office 



Joshua Heilmann. 441 

at fifteen. He remained there for two years, employing 
his spare time in mechanical drawing. He afterwards 
spent two years in his uncle's banking-house in Paris,, 
prosecuting the study of mathematics in the evenings. 
Some of his relatives having established a small cotton- 
spinning factory at Mulhouse, young Heilmann was 
placed with Messrs. Tissot and Rey, at Paris, to learn 
the practice of that firm. At the same time he became 
a student at the Conservatoire des A.rts de Metiers, 
where he attended the lectures, and studied the machines 
in the museum. He also took practical lessons in turn- 
ing from a toy-maker. After some time thus diligently 
occupied, he returned to Alsace, to superintend the con- 
struction of the machinery for the new factory at Vieux- 
Thann, which was shortly finished and set to work. 
The operations of the manufactory were, however, seri- 
ously affected by a commercial crisis which occurred 
and it passed into other hands, on which Heilmann 
returned to his family at Mulhouse. 

He had in the meantime been accupying much of 
his leisure with inventions more particularly in connec- 
tion with the weaving of cotton and the preparation of 
the staple for spinning. One of his earliest contriv- 
ances was an embroidering-machine, in which twenty 
needles were employed, working simultaneously; and 
he succeeded in accomplishing his object after about six 
months' labor. For this invention, which he exhibited 
at the Exposition of 1834, he received a gold medal, and. 
was decorated with the Legion of Honor. Other inven- 



442 Joshua Heilmann. 

tions quickly followed — an improved loom, a machine 
for measuring and folding fabrics, an improvement of 
the " bobbin and fly-frames " of the English spinners, 
and a weft winding-machine, with various improve- 
ments in the machinery for preparing, spinning, and 
weaving silk and cotton. One of his most ingenious 
contrivances was his loom for weaving simultaneously 
two pieces of velvet or other piled fabric, united by the 
pile common to both, with a knife and traversing appa- 
ratus for separating the two fabrics when woven. But 
by far the most beautiful and ingenious of his inventions 
was the combing-machine, the history of which we now 
proceed shortly to describe. 

Heilmann had for some years been diligently studying 
the contrivance of a machine for combing long-stapled 
cotton, the ordinary carding-machine being found inef- 
fective in preparing the raw material for spinning, es- 
pecially the finer sorts of yarn, besides causing consid- 
erable Waste. To avoid these imperfections, the cotton- 
spinners of Alsace offered a prize of 5,000 francs for an 
improved combing-machine, and Heilmann immediately 
proceeded to compete for the reward. He was not 
stimulated by the desire of gain, for he was compara- 
tively rich, having acquired a considerable fortune by 
his wife. It was a saying of his that " one will never 
accomplish great things who is constantly asking him- 
self, how much gain will this bring me?" What main- 
ly impelled him was the irrepressible instinct of the in- 
ventor, who no sooner has a mechanical problem set 



Joshua Heilmann. 443 

before him than he feels impelled to undertake its solu- 
tion. The problem in this case was, however, much 
more difficult than he had anticipated. The close study 
of the subject occupied him for several years, and the 
expenses in which he became involved in connection 
with it were so great, that his wife's fortune was short- 
ly swallowed up, and he was reduced, to poverty, with- 
out being able to bring his machine to perfection. From 
that time he was under the necessity of relying mainly 
on the help of his friends to enable him to prosecute the 
invention. 

While still struggling with poverty and difficulties, 
Heilmann's wife died, believing her husband ruined; and 
shortly after he proceeded to England and settled for a 
time at Manchester, still laboring at his machine. He 
had a model made for him by the eminent machine- 
makers, Sharpe, Roberts and Company; but still he 
could not make it work satisfactorily, and he was at 
length brought almost to the verge of despair. He re- 
turned to France to visit his family, still pursuing his 
idea, which had obtained complete possession of his 
mind. While sitting by his hearth one evening, medi- 
tating upon the hard fate of inventors and the misfor- 
tunes in which their families so often become involved, 
he found himself almost unconsciously watching his 
daughters combing their long hair and drawing it out 
at full length between their fingers. The thought sud- 
denly struck him that if he could successfully imitate in 
a machine the process of combing out the longest hair 



444 The Combing- Machine. 

and forcing back the short by reversing the action of" 
the comb, it might serve to extricate him from his diffi- 
culty. It may be remembered that this incident in the 
life of Heilmann has been made the subject of a beauti- 
ful picture by Mr. Elmore, R.A., which was exhibited 
at the Royal Academy Exhibition of 1862. 

Upon this idea he proceeded, introduced the appar- 
ently simple but really most intricate process of ma- 
chine-combing, and after great labor he succeeded in 
perfecting the invention. The singular beauty of the 
process can only be appreciated by those who have 
witnessed the machine at work, when the similarity of 
its movements to that of combing the hair, which sug- 
gested the invention, is at once apparent. The ma- 
chine has been described as " acting with almost the 
delicacy of touch of the human fingers. 1 ' It combs the 
lock of cotton at both ends, places the fibres exactly 
parallel with each other, seperates the long from the 
short, and unites the long fibres in one sliver and the 
short ones in another. In fine, the machine not only 
acts with the delicate accuracy of the human fingers, 
but apparently with the delicate intelligence of the hu- 
man hand. 

The chief commercial value of the invention consist- 
ed in its rendering the commoner sorts of cotton avail- 
able for fine spinning. The manufacturers were there- 
by enabled to select the most suitable fibres for high- 
priced fabrics, and to produce the finer sorts of yarn in 
much larger quantities. It became possible by its, 



Heilmamis Death. 445 

means to make thread so fine that a length of 334 
miles might be spun from a single pound weight of the 
prepared cotton, and, worked up into the finer sorts of 
lace, the original shilling's worth of cotton-wool, before 
it passed into the hands of the consumer, might thus 
be increased to the value of between £300 and £400 
sterling. 

The beauty and utility of Heilmann's invention were 
at once appreciated by the English cotton-spinners. 
Six Lancashire firms united and purchased the patent 
for cotton-spinning for England for the sum of £30,000; 
the wool-spinners paid the same sum for the privilege 
of applying the process to wool ; and the Messrs. Mar- 
shall, of Leeds, £20,000 for the privilege of applying it 
to flax. Thus wealth suddenly flowed in upon poor 
Heilmann at last. But he did not live to enjoy it. 
Scarcely had his long labors been crowned by success 
than he died, and his son, who had shared in his priva- 
tions, shortly followed him. 

It is at the price of lives such as these that the won- 
ders of civilization are achieved. 



£A9 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

HELPS AND OPPORTUNITIES SCIENTIFIC PURSUITS. 

No Great Result Achieved by Accident. — Newton's Discoveries. — Dr. Young. 
— Habit of Observing with Intelligence. — Galileo. — Inventions of Brown, 
Watt, and Brunei, accidently Suggested. — Philosophy in Little Things. 
— Franklin and Galvani. — Discovery of Steam-power. — Opportunities 
Seized or Made.— Simple and Rude Tools of Great Workers. — Lee and 
Stone's Opportunities for Learning. — Sir Walter Scott's. — Dr. Priestley. 
— Sir Humphrey Davy. — Faraday. — Davy and Coleridge. 

' ' Opportunity has hair in front, behind she is bald ; if you seize her by 
the forelock you may hold her, but, if suffered to escape, not Jupiter him- 
self can catch her again." — From the Latin. 

C\)CCIDENT does very little toward the production 
of any great result in life. Though sometimes 
what is called " a happy hit " may be made by a bold 
venture, the common highway of steady industry and 
application is the only safe road to travel. It is said 
of the landscape painter Wilson, that when he had near- 
ly finished a picture in a tame, correct manner, he 
would step back from it, his pencil fixed at the end of 
a long stick, and after gazing earnestly on the work, he 
would suddenly walk up and by a few bold touches give 
a brilliant finish to the painting. But it will not do for 
every one who would produce an effect, to throw his 
brush at the canvas in the hope of producing a picture. 

446 



Discoveries not Accidental. 447 

The capability of putting in these last vital touches is 
acquired only by the labor of a life; and the probability 
is, that the artist who has not carefully trained himself 
beforehand, in attempting to produce a brilliant effect 
at a dash, will only produce a blotch. 

Sedulous attention and painstaking industry always 
mark the true worker. The greatest men are not those 
who " despise the day of small things," but those who> 
improve them the most carefully. Michael Angelo 
was one day explaining to a visitor at his studio what 
he had been doing at a statue since his previous visit. 
" I have retouched this part — polished that — softened 
this feature — brought out that muscle — given some ex- 
pression to this lip, and more energy to that limb." 
" But these are trifles," remarked the visitor. "It may 
be so," replied the sculptor, " but recollect that trifles 
make perfection, and perfection is no trifle." So it was 
said of Nicolas Poussin, the painter, that the rule of 
his conduct was, that " whatever was worth doing at 
all was worth doing well;" and when asked, late in life, 
by his friend Vigneul de Marville, by what means he 
had gained so high a reputation among the painters of 
Italy, Poussin emphatically answered, " Because I have 
neglected nothing." 

Although there are discoveries which are said to 
have been made by accident, if carefully inquired into, 
it will be found that there has really been very little 
that was accidental about them. For the most part, 
these so-called accidents have only been opportunities,, 



448 Discoveries not Accidental. 

carefully improved by genius. The fall of the apple 
at Newton's feet has often been quoted in proof of the 
accidental character of some discoveries. But New- 
ton's whole mind had already been devoted for years to 
the laborious and patient investigation of the subject of 
gravitation; and the circumstance of the apple falling 
before his eyes was suddenly apprehended only as 
genius could apprehend it, and served to flash upon 
him the brilliant discovery then opening to his sight. 
In like manner, the brilliantly-colored soap-bubbles 
blown from a common tobacco-pipe — though " trifles 
light as air " in most eyes — suggested to Dr. Young 
his beautiful theory of "interference," and led to his 
discovery relating to the diffraction of light. Although 
great men are popularly supposed only to deal with 
great things, men such as Newton and Young were 
ready to detect the significance of the most familiar and 
simple facts; their greatness consisting mainly in their 
wise interpretation of them. 

The difference between men consists, in a great meas- 
ure, in the intelligence of their observation. The Rus- 
sian proverb says of the non-observant man, " He goes 
through the forest and sees no firewood." " The wise 
man's eyes are in his head," says Solomon, " but the 
fool walketh in darkness." " Sir," said Johnson, on one 
occasion, to a fine gentleman just returned from Italy, 
11 some men will learn more in the Hampstead stage 
than others in the tour of Europe." It is the mind 
that sees as well as the eye. Where unthinking gaz- 



Intelligent Observation — Galileo- 449 

ers observe nothing, men of intelligent vision penetrate 
into the very fibre of the phenomena presented to them, 
attentively noting differences, making comparisons, and 
recognizing their underlying idea. Many before Gali- 
leo had seen a suspended weight swing before their 
eyes with measured beat; but he was the first to 
detect the value of the fact. One of the vergers in the 
cathedral at Pisa, after replenishing with oil a lamp 
which hung from the roof, left it swinging to and fro; 
and Galileo, then a youth of only eighteen, noting it at- 
tentively, conceived the idea of applying it to the meas- 
urement of time. Fifty years of study and labor, how- 
ever, elapsed, before he completed the invention of his 
Pendulum — the importance of which, in the measure- 
ment of time and in astronomical calculations, can 
scarcely be overrated. In like manner, Galileo, having 
casually heard that one Lippershey, a Dutch spectacle- 
maker, had presented to Count Maurice of Nassau an 
instrument by means of which distant objects appeared 
nearer to the beholder, addressed himself to the cause 
of such a phenomenon, which led to the invention of 
the telescope, and proved the beginning of the modern 
science of astronomy. Discoveries such as these could 
never have been made by a negligent observer, or by a 
mere passive listener. 

While Captain (afterwards Sir Samuel) Brown was 
occupied in studying the construction of bridges, with 
the view of contriving one of a cheap description to be 
thrown across the Tweed near which he lived, he was 



45(j Brown — Brunei — Columbus. 

walking in his garden one dewy autumn morning, 
when he saw a tiny spider's net suspended across his 
path. The idea immediately occurred to him, that a 
bridge of iron ropes or chains might be constructed in 
like manner, and the result was the invention of his 
Suspension Bridge. So James Watt, when consulted 
about the mode of carrying water by pipes under the 
Clyde, along the unequal bed of the river, turned his 
attention one day to the shell of a lobster presented at 
table; and from that model he invented an iron tube, 
which, when laid down, was found effectually to answer 
the purpose. Sir Isambert Brunei took his first lessons 
in forming the Thames Tunnel from the tiny ship- 
worm: he saw how the little creature perforated the 
wood with its well-armed head, first in one direction 
and then in another, till the archway was complete, 
and then daubed over the roof and sides with a kind of 
varnish; and by copying this work exactly on a large 
scale, Brunei was at length enabled to construct his shield 
and accomplish his great engineering work. 

It is the intelligent eye of the careful observer which 
gives these apparently trivial phenomena their value. 
So trifling a matter as the sight of seaweed floating 
past his ship, enabled Columbus to quell the mutiny 
which arose among his sailors at not discovering land, 
and to assure them that the eagerly sought New World 
was not far off. There is nothing so small that it should 
remain .forgotten ; and no fact, however trivial, but may 
prove useful in some way or other if carefully inter- 



Might in Little Things. 451 

preted. Who could have imagined that the famous 
u chalk cliffs of Albion " had been built up by tiny 
insects — detected only by the help of the microscope 
— of the same order of creatures that have gemmed the 
sea with islands of coral ! And who that contemplates 
such extraordinary results, arising from infinitely 
minute operations, will venture to question the power 
of little things? x 

It is the close observation of little things which is the 
secret of success in business, in art, in science, and 
in every pursuit in life. Human knowledge is but an 
accumulation of small facts, made by successive gener- 
ations of men, the little bits of knowledge and experi- 
ence carefully treasured up by them growing at length 
into a mighty pyramid. Though many ot these facts 
and observations seemed in the first instance to have 
but slight significance, they are all found to have their 
eventual uses, and to fit into their proper places. Even 
many speculations seemingly remote, turn out to be 
the basis of results the most obviously practical. In 
the case of the conic sections discovered by Apollonius 
Pergseus, twenty centuries elapsed before they were 
made the basis of astronomy— a science which enables 
the modern navigator to steer his way through un- 
known seas and traces for him in the heavens an unerr- 
ing path to his appointed haven. And had not 
mathematicians toiled for so long, and, to uninstructed 
observers, apparently so fruitlessly, over the abstract 
relations of lines and surfaces, it is probably that but 



452 Might in Little Things. 

few of our mechanical inventions would have seen the 
light. 

When Franklin made his discovery of the indentity 
of lightning and electricity, it was sneered at, and peo- 
ple asked, " Of what use is it?" To which his reply 
was, " What is the use of a child? It may become a 
man!" When Galvani discovered that a frog's- leg 
twitched when placed in contact with different metals, 
it could scarcely have been imagined that to apparently 
insignificant a fact could have led so important re- 
sults. Yet therein lay the germ of the Electric 
Telegraph, which binds the intelligence of continents 
together, and, probably before many years have elapsed 
will " put a girdle round the globe. 1 ' So, too, little bits 
of stone and fossil, dug out of the earth, intelligently 
interpreted, have issued in the science of geology and 
the practical operations of mining, in which large cap- 
itals are invested and vast numbers of persons profitably 
employed. 

The gigantic machinery employed in pumping our 
mines, working our mills and manufactures, and driving 
our steamships and locomotives, in like manner depends 
for its supply of power upon so slight an agency as 
little drops of water expanded by heat — that familiar 
agency called steam, which we see issuing from that 
common tea-kettle spout, but which, when pent up with- 
in an ingeniously contrived mechanism, displays a force 
equal to that of millions of horses, and contains a power 
to rebuke the waves and set even the hurricane at 



The Art of Seizing Opportunities. 453 

defiance. The same power at work within the bowels 
of the earth has been the cause of those volcanoes and 
earthquakes which have played so mighty a part in the 
history of the globe. 

It is said that the Marquis of Worcester's attention 
was first accidentally directed to the subject of steam 
power, by the tight cover of a vessel containing hot 
water having been blown off before his eyes, when con- 
fined a prisoner in the Tower. He published the result 
of his observations in his " Century of Inventions," 
which formed a sort of text-book for inquirers into the 
powers of steam for a time, until Savary, Newcomen, 
and others, applying it to practical purposes, brought 
the steam-engine to the state in which Watt found it 
when called upon to repair a model of Newcomen's 
engine, which belonged to the University of Glasgow. 
This accidental circumstance was an opportunity for 
Watt, which he was not slow to improve; and it was the 
labor of his life to bring the steam-engine to perfection. 

This art of seizing opportunities and turning even ac- 
cidents to account, bending them to some purpose, is a 
great secret of success. Dr. Johnson has defined genius 
to be " a mind of large general powers accidentally de- 
termined in some particular direction." Men who are 
resolved to find a way for themselves, will always find 
opportunities enough; and if they do not lie ready to 
their hand, they will make them. It is not those who 
have enjoyed the advantages of colleges, museums, and 
public galleries, that have accomplished the most for 



454 Rude Scientific Apparatus. 

science and art; nor have the greatest mechanics and 
inventors been trained in mechanics' institutes. Neces- 
sity, oftener than facility, has been the mother of inven- 
tion; and the most prolific school of all has been the 
school of difficulty. Some of the very best workmen 
have had the most indifferent tools to work with. But 
it is not tools that make the workman, but the trained 
skill and perseverance of the man himself. Indeed it is 
proverbial that the bad workman never yet had a good 
tool. Some one asked Opie by what wonderful process 
he mixed his colors. " I mix them with my brains, 
sir," was his reply. It is the same with every workman 
who would excel. Ferguson made marvellous things 
— such as his wooden clock, that accurately measured 
the hours — by means of a common penknife, a tool in 
every body's hand; but then every body is not a Fer- 
guson. A pan of water and two thermometers were 
the tools by which Dr. Black discovered latent heat; 
and a prism, a lens, and a sheet of pasteboard enabled 
Newton to unfold the composition of light and the ori- 
gin of colors. An eminent foreign savant once called 
upon Dr. Wollaston, and requested to be shown over 
his laboratories in which science had been enriched by 
so many important discoveries, when the doctor took 
him into a little study, and, pointing to an old tea-tray 
on the table, containing a few watch-glasses, test-papers, 
a small balance, and a blowpipe, said, " There is all 
the laboratory that I have!" 

Stothard learnt the art of combining colors by close- 



Ferguson — Professor . Lee- 455 

ly studying butterflies' wings: he would often say that 
no one knew what he owed to these tiny insects. A 
burnt stick and a barn-door served Wilkie in lieu ot 
pencil and canvas. Bewick first practiced drawing on 
the cottage walls of his native village, which he covered 
with his sketches in chalk; and Benjamin West made 
his first brushes out of the cat's tail. Ferguson laid 
himself down in the fields at night in a blanket, and 
made a map of the heavenly bodies by means of a 
thread with small beads on it stretched between his eye 
and the stars. Franklin first robbed the thunder-cloud 
of its lightning by means of a kite made with two cross 
sticks and a silk handkerchief. Watt made his first 
model of the condensing steam-engine out of an old anato- 
mist's syringe, used to inject the arteries previous to dissec- 
tion. Gifford worked his first problems in mathematics,, 
when a cobbler's apprentice, upon small scraps of leath- 
er, which he beat smooth for the purpose; whilst Rit- 
tenhouse, the astronomer, first calculated eclipses on his 
plough-handle. 

The most ordinary occasions will furnish a man with 
opportunities or suggestions for improvement, if he be 
but prompt to take advantage of them. Professor Lee 
was attracted to the study of Hebrew by finding a 
Bible in that tongue in a synagogue, while working as 
a common carpenter at the repairs of the benches. 
He became possessed with a desire to read the book in 
the original, and, buying a cheap second-hand copy of 
a Hebrew grammar, he set to work and learnt the Ian- 



456 Br. Priestly. 

guage for himself. As Edmund Stone said to the Duke 
of Argyle, in answer to his grace's inquiry how he, a 
poor gardener's boy, had contrived to be able to read 
Newton's Principia in Latin, " One needs only to know 
the twenty-four letters of the alphabet in order to learn 
every thing else that one wishes." Application and 
perseverance, and the diligent improvement of opportu- 
nities, will do the rest. 

Sir Walter Scott found opportunities for self-improve- 
ment in every pursuit, and turned even accidents to 
account. Thus it was in the discharge of his functions 
as a writer's apprentice that he first visited the High- 
lands, and formed those friendships among the surviv- 
ing heroes of 1 745 which served to lay the foundation 
of a large class of his works. Later in life, when em- 
ployed as quartermaster of the Edinburgh Light Cav- 
alry, he was accidentally disabled by the kick of a 
horse, and confined for some time to his house; but 
Scott was a sworn enemy to idleness, and he forthwith 
set his mind to work. In three days he had composed 
the first canto of u The Lay of the Last Minstrel," 
which he shortly after finished — his first great original 
work. 

The attention of Dr. Priestley, the discoverer of so 
many gases, was accidentally drawn to the subject of 
chemistry through his living in the neighborhood of a 
brewery. When visiting the place one day, he noted 
the peculiar appearances attending the extinction of 
lighted chips in the gas floating over the fermented 



Davy — Faraday. 457 

liquor. He was forty years old at the time, and knew 
nothing of chemistry. He consulted books to ascertain 
the cause, but they told him little, for as yet nothing- 
was known on the subject. Then he began to experi- 
ment, with some rude apparatus of his own contrivance. 
The curious results of his first experiments led to oth- 
ers, which in his hands shortly became the science of 
pneumatic chemistry. About the same time, Scheele 
was obscurely working in the same direction in a re- 
mote Swedish village; and he discovered several new 
gases, with no more effective apparatus at his command 
than a few apothecaries 1 vials and pigs' bladders. 

Sir Humphry Davy, when an apothecary's apprentice, 
performed his first experiments with instruments of the 
rudest description. He extemporized the greater part 
of them himself, out of the motley materials which 
chance threw in his way — the pots and pans of the kitch- 
en, and the vials and vessels of his master's surgery. 
It happened that a French ship was wrecked off the 
Land's End, and the surgeon escaped, bearing with him 
his case of instruments, amongst which was an old- 
fashioned glyster apparatus ; this article he presented to 
Davy, with whom he had become acquainted. The 
apothecary's apprentice received it with great exulta- 
tion, and forthwith employed it as a part of a pneumatic 
apparatus which he contrived, afterwards using it to 
perform the duties of an air-pump in one of his experi- 
ments on the nature and sources of heat. 

In like manner Professor Faraday, Sir Humphry 



458 Davy — Faraday. 

Davy's scientific successor, made his first experiments 
in electricity by means of an old bottle, while he was 
still a working bookbinder. And it is a curoius fact, 
that Faraday was first attracted to the study of chem- 
istry by hearing one of Sir Humphry Davy's lectures 
on the subject at the Royal Institution, A gentleman, 
who was a member, calling one day at the shop where 
Faraday was employed in binding books found him por- 
ing over the article " Electricity " in an Encyclopae- 
dia placed in his hands to bind. The gentleman, hav- 
ing made inquiries, found that the young bookbinder 
was curious about such subjects, and gave him an or- 
der of admission to the Royal Institution, where he at- 
tended a course of four lectures delivered by Sir Hum- 
phrey. He took notes of them, which he showed to the 
lecturer, who acknowledged their scientific accuracy, 
and was surprised when informed of the humble posi- 
tion of the reporter. Faraday then expressed his de- 
sire to devote himself to the prosecution of chemical 
studies, from which Sir Humphry at first endeavored to 
dissuade him: but the young man persisting, he was 
at length taken into the Royal Institution as an assist- 
ant; and eventually the mantle of the brilliant apothe- 
cary's boy fell upon the worthy shoulders of the equal- 
ly brilliant bookbinder's apprentice. 

The words which Davy entered in his note-book, 
when about twenty-years of age, working in Dr. Bed- 
does's laboratory at Bristol, were eminently characteris- 
tic of hirn: " I have neither riches, nor power, nor birth 



Davy. 



459 



to recommend me; yet if I live I trust I shall not be 
of less service to mankind and my friends, than if I had 
been born with all these advantages." Davy possessed 
the capability, as Faraday does, of devoting the whole 
power of his mind to the practical and experimental 
investigation of a subject in all its bearings; and such 
a mind will rarely fail, by dint of mere industry and pa- 
tient thinking, in producing results of the highest order. 




CHAPTER XXXVII. 

WORKERS IN ART. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds on the Power of Industry in Art. — Humble Origin of 
Eminent Artists. — Acquisition of Wealth not the Ruling Motive with 
Artists. — Michael Angelo on Riches. — Patient Labors of Michael Angelo 
and Titian. — West's Early Success a Disadvantage. — Richard Wilson and 
Zuccarelli. — Sir Joshua Reynolds, Blake, Bird, Gainesborough, and 
Hogarth, as Boy Artists. — Hogarth a Keen Observer. — Banks and Mul- 
ready. — Claude, .Lorraine and Turner: their Indefatigable Industry. — 
Perrier and Jacques Callot, and their Visits to Rome. — Callot and the 
Gypsies. — Benvenuto Cellini, Goldsmith and Musician: his Ambition to 
Excel. — Casting of His Statue of Perseus. 

" If what shone afar so grand, 
Turn to nothing in thy hand, 
On again ; the virtue lies 
In the struggle, not the prize." — R. M. Milnes 

3j\XCELLENCE in art, as in everything else, can 
-^*\ only be achieved by dint of painstaking labor. 
There is nothing less accidental than the painting of a 
fine picture or the chiselling of a noble statue. Every 
skilled touch of the artists brush or chisel, though 
guided by genius, is the product of unremitting study. 
Sir Joshua Reynolds was such a believer in the force 
of industry, that he held that artistic excellence, " how- 
ever expressed by genius, taste, or the gift of heaven, 
may be acquired." Writing to Barry he said, " Who- 
ever is resolved to excel in painting, or indeed any 

460 



Force of Industry in Art. 461 

other art must bring all his mind to bear upon that one 
object from the moment that he rises till he goes to 
bed." And on another occasion he said, " Those who 
are resolved to excel must go to their work willing or 
unwilling, morning, noon, and night: they will find it 
no play, but very hard labor." But although diligent 
application is no doubt absolutely necessary for the 
achievement of the highest distinction in art, it is 
equally true that .without the inborn genius, no amount 
of mere industry, however well applied, will make an 
artist. The gift comes by nature, but is perfected by 
self-culture, which is of more avail than all the imparted 
education of the schools. 

Some of the greatest artists have had to force their 
way upward in the face of poverty and manifold ob- 
structions. Illustrious instances will at once flash upon 
the reader's mind. Claude Lorraine, the pastry-cook; 
Tintoretto, the dyer; the two Caravaggios, the one a 
color-grinder, the other a mortar-carrier at the Vatican ; 
Salvator Rosa, the associate of bandits; Giotto, the 
peasant-boy; Zingaro, the gypsy; Cavedone, turned 
out of doors to beg by his father; Canova, the stone- 
cutter; these, and many other well-known artists, suc- 
ceeded in achieving distinction by severe study and 
labor, under circumstances the most adverse. 

Nor have the most distinguished artists of our own 
country been born in a position of life more than ordin- 
arily favorable to the culture of artistic genius. Gains- 
borough and Bacon were the sons of cloth-workers; 



462 Force of Industry in Art 

Barry was an Irish sailor-boy, and Maclise a banker's 
apprentice at Cork; Opie and Romney, like Inigo Jones, 
were carpenters; West was the son of a small Quaker 
farmer in Pennsylvania ; Northcote was a watchmaker, 
Jackson a tailor, and Etty a printer; Reynolds, Wilson, 
and Wilkie were the sons of clergymen ; Lawrence was 
the son of a publican, and Turner of a barber. Several 
of our painters, it is true, originally had some connec- 
tion with art, though in a very humble way, such as 
Floxman, whose father sold plaster casts; Bird, who 
ornamented tea-trays; Martin, who was a coach painter; 
Wright and Gilpin, who were ship-painters; Chantrey, 
who was a carver and gilder; and David Cox, Stanfield^ 
and Roberts, who were scene-painters. 

It was not by luck or accident that these men achieved 
distinction, but by sheer industry and hard work. 
Though some achieved wealth, yet this was rarely, if 
ever, their ruling motive. Indeed, no mere love of 
money could sustain the efforts of the artist in his early 
career of self-denial and application. The pleasure of 
the pursuit has always been its best reward ; the wealth 
which followed but an accident. Many noble-minded 
artists have preferred following the bent of their genius 
to chaffering with the public for terms. Spagnoletto 
verified in his life the beautiful fiction of Xenophon, 
and after he had acquired the means of luxury, 
preferred withdrawing himself from their influence, and 
voluntarily returned to poverty and labor. When 
Michael Angelo was asked his opinion respecting a 



Michael Angelo. 463 

work which a painter had taken great pains to exhibit 
for profit, he said, " I think that he will be a poor fellow 
so long as he shows such an extreme eagerness to be- 
come rich." 

Like Sir Joshua Reynolds, Michael Angelo was a 
great believer in the force of labor; and he held that 
there was nothing which the imagination conceived 
that could not be embodied in marble, if the hand were 
made vigorously to obey the mind. He was himself 
one of the most indefatigable of workers; and he 
attributed his power of studying for a greater number 
of hours than most of his contemporaries, to his spare 
habits of living. A little bread and wine was all he 
required for the chief part of the day when employed at 
his work, and very frequently he rose in the middle of 
the night to resume his labors. On these occasions, it 
was his practice to fix the candle, by the light of which 
he chiselled, on the summit of a pasteboard cap which 
he wore. Sometimes he was too wearied to undress, 
and he slept in his clothes, ready to spring to his work 
as soon as refreshed by sleep. He had a favorite de- 
vise of an old man in a go-cart,'with an hour-glass upon 
it bearing the inscription, u Ancora irnparo!" — " Still I 
am learning."" 

Titian, also, was an indefatigable worker. His cele- 
brated " Pietro Martire " was eight years in hand, and 
his " Last Supper v seven: In his letter to Charles V. 
he said, " I send your Majesty the ' Last Supper,' after 
working at it almost daily for seven years — dopo sette 



464 Titian— Odllcott— West. 

anni lavorandovi quasi conttnuamente." Few think 
of the patient labor and long training involved in the 
greatest works of the artist. They seem easy and 
quickly accomplished, yet with how great difficulty has 
this ease been acquired. " You charge me fifty sequins," 
said the Venetian nobleman to the sculptor, " for a bust 
that cost you only ten days labor." " You forget," 
said the artist, " that I have been thirty years learning 
to make that bust in ten days." Once when Domen- 
ichino was blamed for his slowness in finishing a picture 
which was bespoken, he made answer, " I am continu- 
ally painting it within myself." It was eminently char- 
acteristic of the industry of the late Sir Augustus 
Callcott that he made not fewer than forty separate 
sketches in the composition of his famous picture of 
u Rochester." This constant repetition is one of the 
main conditions of success in art, as in life itself. 

No matter how generous nature has been in bestow- 
ing the gift of genius, the pursuit of art is nevertheless 
a long and continuous labor. Many artists have been 
precocious, but without diligence their precocity would 
have come to nothing. The anecdote related of West 
is well known. When only seven years old, struck 
with the beauty ot the sleeping infant of his oldest 
sister, whilst watching by its cradle, he ran to seek some 
paper, and forthwith drew its portrait in red and black 
ink. The little incident revealed the artist in him, and 
it was found impossible to draw him from his bent. 
West might have been a greater painter, had he not 



Wilson — Reynolds — Hogarth. 46 5 

been injured by too early success: his fame, though 
great, was not purchased by study, trials, and difficul- 
ties, and it has not been enduring. 

Richard Wilson, when a mere child, indulged him- 
self with tracing figures of men and animals on the 
walls of his father's house with a burnt stick. He first 
directed his attention to portrait painting; but when in 
Italy, calling one day at the house v of Zucarelli, and 
growing weary with waiting, he began painting the 
scene on which his friend's chamber window looked. 
When Zucarelli arrived, he was so charmed with the 
picture that he asked if Wilson had not studied land- 
scape, to which he replied that he had not. " Then I 
advise you, 1 ' said the other, "to try; for you are sure 
of great success." Wilson adopted the advise, studied 
and worked hard, and became our first great English 
landscape painter. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds, when a boy, forgot his lessons, 
and took pleasure only in drawing, for which his father 
was accustomed to rebuke him. The boy was destined 
for the profession of physic, but his strong instinct for 
art could not be repressed, and he became a painter. 
Gainsborough went sketching, when a school-boy in the 
woods of Sudbury, and at twelve he was a confirmed 
artist: he was a keen observer and a hard worker — no 
picturesque feature of any scene he had once looked 
upon escaping his diligent pencil. William Blake, a 
hosier's son, employed himself in drawing designs on 
backs of his father's shop-bills, and making sketches on 



466 Hogarth's Close Observation. 

the counter. Edward Bird, when a child only three or 
four years old, would mount a chair and draw figures 
on the walls, which he called French and English soldiers. 
A box of colors was purchased for him, and his father,, 
desirous of turning his love of art to account, put him 
apprentice to a maker of tea-trays! Out of this trade 
he gradually raised himself, by study and labor, to the 
rank of a Royal Academician. 

Hogarth, though a very dull boy at his lessons, took 
pleasure in making drawings of the letters of the al- 
phabet, and his school exercises were more remarkable 
for the ornaments with which he embellished them than 
for the matter of the exercises themselves. In the lat- 
ter respect he was beaten by all the blockheads of the 
school, but in his adornments he stood alone. His fa- 
ther put him apprentice to a silversmith, where he learnt 
to draw, and also to engrave spoons and forks with 
crests and ciphers. From silver-chasing he went on to 
teach himself engraving on copper, principally griffins 
and monsters of heraldry, in the course of which prac- 
tice he became ambitious to delineate the varieties of 
human character. The singular excellence which he 
reached in this art was mainly the result of careful ob- 
servation and study. He had the gift, which he sedu- 
lously cultivated, of committing to memory the precise 
features of any remarkable face, and afterwards repro- 
ducing them on paper; but if any singularly fantastic 
form or outre face came in his way, he would make a 
sketch of it on the spot upon his thumb-nail, and carry 



Hogarth's Close Observation. -467 

it home to expand at his leisure. Every thing fantasti- 
cal and original had a powerful attraction for him, and 
he wandered into many out-of-the-way places for the 
purpose of meeting with character. By this careful 
storing of his mind, he was afterwards enabled to crowd 
an immense amount of thought and treasured observa- 
tion into his works. Hence it is that Hogarth's pic- 
tures are so truthful a memorial of the character, the 
manners, and even the very thoughts of the times in 
which he lived. True painting, he himself observed, 
can only be learnt in one school, and that is kept by 
Nature. But he was not a highly cultivated man, ex- 
cept in his own walk. His school education had been 
of the slenderest kind, scarcely even perfecting him in 
the art of spelling; his self-culture did the rest. For a 
long time he was in very straightened circumstances, 
but nevertheless worked on with a cheerful heart. Poor 
though he was, he contrived to live within his small 
means, and he boasted, with becoming pride, that he 
was a "punctual paymaster." When he had become a 
famous and thriving man, he loved to dwell upon his early 
labors and privations, and to fight over again the battle 
which ended so honorably to him as a man and so glori- 
ously as an artist. " I remember the time," said he on 
one occasion, k * when I have gone moping into the city 
with scarce a shilling, but as soon as I have received 
ten guineas there for a plate, I have returned home, 
put on my sword, and sallied out with all the confidence 
of a man who had thousands in his pockets," 



468 Banks — Mulready- 

u Industry and perseverance" was the motto of the 
sculptor Banks, which he acted on himself, and strongly 
recommended to others. His well-known kindness in- 
duced many aspiring youths to call upon him and ask 
for his advice and assistance; and it is related that one 
day a boy called at his door to see him with this object, 
but the servant, angry at the loud knock he had given, 
scolded him, and was about sending him away, when 
Banks, overhearing her, himself went out. The little 
boy stood at the door with some drawings in his hand. 
"What do you want with me? 1 ' asked the sculptor. 
" I want, sir, if you please, to be admitted to draw at 
the Academy." Banks explained that he himself could 
not procure his admission, but he asked to look at the 
boy's drawings. Examining them, he said, " Time 
enough for the Academy, my little man! go home — 
mind your schooling — try to make a better drawing of 
the Apollo — and in a month come again and let me see 
it. The boy went home — -sketched and worked with 
redoubled diligence — and, at the end of the month, 
called again on the sculptor. The drawing was better; 
but again Banks sent him back, with good advice, to 
work and study. In a week the boy was again at his 
door, his drawing much improved; and Banks bid him 
be of good cheer, for if spared he would distinguish 
himself. The boy was Mulready; and the sculptor's 
augury was amply fulfilled 

The fame of Claude Lorraine is partly explained by 
his indefatigable industry. Born at Champagne, in Lor- 



Claude Lorraine — Turner. 4(39 

raine, of poor parents, he was first apprenticed to a pas- 
trycook. His brother, who was a wood-carver, after- 
wards took him into his shop to learn that trade. Hav- 
ing there shown indications of artistic skill, a traveling 
dealer persuaded the brother to allow Claude to accom- 
pany him to Italy. .He assented, and the young man 
reached Rome, where he was shortly after engaged by 
Agostino Tassi, the landscape painter, as his house ser- 
vant. In that capacity Claude first learnt landscape 
painting, and in course of time he began to produce 
pictures. We next find him making the tour of Italy, 
France, and Germany, occasionally resting by the way 
to paint landscapes, and thereby replenish his purse. 
On returning to Rome he found an increasing demand 
for his works, and his reputation at length, became 
European. He was unwearied in the study of nature 
in her various aspects. It was his practice to spend a 
great part of his time in closely copying buildings, bits 
of ground, trees, leaves, and such like, which he finished 
in detail, keeping the drawings by him in store for the 
purpose of introducing them in his studied landscapes. 
He also gave close attention to the sky, watching it for 
whole days from morning till night, and noting the va- 
rious changes occasioned by the passing clouds and the 
increasing and waning light. By this constant practice 
he acquired, although, it is said, very slowly, such a 
mastery of hand and eye as eventually secured tor him 
the first rank among landscape painters. 

Turner, who has been styled " the English Claude " 



470 Turner* 

[ 

pursued a career of like laborious industry. He was 
destined by his father for his own trade of a barber, 
which he carried on in London, until one day the sketch 
which the boy had made of a coat-of-arms on a silver 
salver having attracted the notice of a customer whom 
his father was shaving, the latter was urged to allow 
his son to follow his bias, and he was eventually per- 
mitted to follow art as a profession. Like all young 
artists, Turner had many difficulties to encounter, and 
they were all the greater that his circumstances were 
so straightened. But he was always willing to work, 
and to take pains with his work, no matter how hum- 
ble it might be. He was glad to hire himself out at 
half-a-crown a night to wash in skies in Indian ink upon 
other people's drawings, getting his supper into the bar- 
gain. Thus he earned money and acquired expertness. 
Then he took to illustrating guide-books, almanacs, 
and any sort of books that wanted cheap frontispieces. 
" What could I have done better?" said he afterwards; 
" it was first-rate pratice." He did every thing care- 
fully and conscientiously, never slurring over his work 
because he was ill-remunerated for it. He aimed at 
learning as well as living; always doing his best, and 
never leaving a drawing without having made a step in 
advance upon his previous work. A man who thus 
labored was sure to do much ; and his growth in power 
and grasp of thought was, to use Ruskin's words, " as 
steady as the increasing light of sunrise. ,, But Tur 
ner's genius needs no panegyric; his best monument 



Jacques C allot 471 

Is the noble gallery of pictures bequeathed by him to 
the nation, which will ever be the most lasting me- 
morial of his fame. 

To reach Rome, the capital of the fine arts, is usually 
the highest ambition of the art student. But the jour- 
ney to Rome is costly, and the student is often poor. 
With a will resolute to overcome difficulties, Rome may 
however at last be reached. Thus Francois Perrier, an 
early French painter, in his eager desire to visit the 
Eternal City, consented to act as guide to a blind 
vagrant. After long wanderings he reached the Vati- 
can, studied and became famous. Not less enthusiasm 
was displayed by Jacques Callot in his determination 
to visit Rome. Though opposed by his father in his 
wish to be an artist, the boy would not be baulked, but 
fled from home to make his way to Italy. Having set 
out without means, he was soon reduced to great straits ; 
but falling in with a band of gypsies, he joined their 
company, and wandered about with them from one fair 
to another, sharing in their numerous adventures. Dur- 
ing, this remarkable journey Callot picked up much of 
that extraordinary knowledge of figure, feature, and 
character, which he afterwards reproduced, sometimes 
in such exaggerated forms, in his wonderful engrav- 
ings. 

When Callot at length reached Florence, a gentle- 
man, pleased with his ingenious ardor, placed him with 
an artist to study; but he was not satisfied to stop 
short of Rome, and we find him shortly on his way 



472 Jacques G allot. 

thither. At Rome he made the acquaintance of Porigi 
and Thomassin, who, on seeing his crayon sketches, 
predicted for him a brilliant career as an artist. But a 
friend of Callot 's family having accidentally encountered 
him, took steps to compel the fugitive to return home. 
By this time he had acquired such a love of wandering 
that he could not rest; so he ran away a second time ? 
and a second time he was brought back by his elder 
brother, who caught him at Turin. At last the father, 
seeing resistance was in vain, gave his reluctant con- 
sent to Callot 's prosecuting his studies at Rome. 
Thither he went accordingly; and this time he re- 
mained, diligently studying design and engraving for 
several years under competent masters. On his way 
back to France, he was encouraged by Cosmo II. to 
remain at Florence where he studied and worked for 
several years more. On the death of his patron he re- 
turned to his family at Nancy, where, by the use of his 
burin and needle, he shortly acquired both wealth and 
fame. When Nancy was taken by siege during the 
civil wars, Callot was requested by Richelieu to make 
a design and engraving of the event, but the artist 
would not commemorate the disaster which had befallen 
his native place, and he refused point-blank. Richelieu 
could not shake his resolution, and threw him into 
prison. There Callot met with some of his old friends 
the gypsies, who had relieved his wants on his first 
journey to Rome. When Louis XIII. heard of his 
imprisonment, he not only released him,, but offered to 



Benvenuto Cellini. 473 

grant him any favor he might ask. Callot immediately 
requested that his old companions the gypsies, might be 
set free and permitted to beg in Paris without molesta- 
tion. This odd request was granted on condition that 
Callot should engrave their portraits, and hence his 
curious book of engravings entitled u The Beggars." 
Louis is said to have offered Callot a pension of 3,000 
livres provided he would not leave Paris; but the artist 
was too much of a Bohemian, and prized his liberty too 
highly to permit him to accept it, and he returned to 
Nancy, where he worked till his death. His industry 
may be inferred from the number of his engravings and 
etchings, of which he left not fewer than 1,600. He 
was especially fond of grotesque subjects, which he 
treated with great skill; his free etchings, touched with 
the graver, being executed with especial delicacy and 
wonderful minuteness. 

Still more romantic and adventurous was the career 
of Benvenuto Cellini, the marvelous gold-worker, 
painter, sculptor, engraver, engineer, and author. His 
life as told by himself, is one of the most extraordinary 
autobiographies ever written. Giovanni Cellini, his 
father, was one of the Court musicians to Lorenzo de 
Medici at Florence; and his highest ambition concern- 
ing his son Benvenuto was that he should become an 
expert player on the flute. But Giovanni having lost 
his appointment, found it necessary to send his son to 
learn some trade, and he was apprenticed to a gold- 
smith. The boy had already displayed a love of draw- 



474 His Indefatigable Activity. 

ing and of art; and, applying himself to his business, 
he soon became a dexterous workman. Having got 
mixed up in a quarrel with some of the towns-people, 
he was banished for six months, during which period he 
worked with a goldsmith at Sienna, gaining further ex- 
perience in jewelry and gold-working. 

His father still insisting on his becoming a flute- 
player, Benvenuto continued to practice on the instru- 
ment, though he detested it. His chief pleasure was in 
in art, which he pursued with enthusiasm. Returning 
to Florence, he carefully studied the designs of Leo- 
nardo da Vinci and Michael Angelo; and, still further 
to improve himself in gold-working, he went on foot to 
Rome, where he met with a variety of adventures. He 
returned to Florence with the reputation of being a 
most expert worker in the precious metals, and his skill 
was soon in great request. But being of an irascible 
temper, he was constantly getting into scrapes, and was 
frequently under the necessity of flying for his life. 
Thus he fled from Florence in the disguise of a friar, 
again taking refuge at Sienna, and afterwards at Rome. 

During his second residence at Rome, Cellini met 
with extensive patronage, and he was taken into the 
Pope's service in the double capacity of goldsmith and 
musician. He was constantly studying and improving 
himself by acquaintance with the works of the best 
masters. He mounted jewels, finished enamels, engraved 
seals, and designed and executed works in gold, silver, 
and bronze, in such a style as to excel all other artists. 



Benvenuto Cellini. 475 

Whenever he heard of a goldsmith who was famous in 
any particular branch, he immediately determined to 
surpass him. Thus it was that he rivalled the medals 
of one, the enamels of another, and the jewelry of a 
third; in fact, there was not a branch of his business 
that he did not feel impelled to excel in. 

Working in this spirit, it is not wonderful that 
Cellini should have been able to accomplish so much. 
He was a man of indefatigable activity, and was con- 
stantly on the move. At one time we find him at 
Florence, at another at Rome; then he is at Mantua, 
at Rome, at Naples, and back to Florence again; then 
at Venice, and in Paris, making all his long journeys on 
horseback. He could not carry much luggage with 
him; so, wherever he went, he usually began by mak- 
ing his own tools. He not only designed his works, but 
executed them himself — hammered and carved, and 
cast and shaped them with his own hands. Indeed, his 
works have the impress of genius so clearly stamped 
upon them, that they could never have been designed 
by one person and executed by another. The humblest 
article — a buckel for a lady's girdle, a seal, a locket, a 
brooch, a ring, or a button — became in his hands a 
beautiful work of art. 

Cellini was remarkable for his readiness and dexterity 
in handicraft. One day a surgeon entered the shop of 
RafFaelo del Moro, the goldsmith, to perform an opera- 
tion on his daughter's hand. On looking at the sur- 
geon's instruments, Cellini, who was present, found them 



476 His Statue of Perseus* 

rude and clumsy, as they usually were in those days r 
and he asked the surgeon to proceed no further with 
the operation for a quarter of an hour. He then ran to 
his shop, and taking a piece of the finest steel, wrought 
out of it a beautifully finished knife, with which the 
operation was successfully performed. 

Among the statues executed by Cellini, the most im- 
portant are the silver figure of Jupiter, executed at 
Paris for Francis I., and the Perseus, executed in 
bronze for the Grand Duke Cosmo of Florence. He 
also executed statues in marble of Apollo, Hyacinthus, 
Narcissus, and Neptune. The extraordinary incidents 
connected with the casting of the Perseus were pe- 
culiarly illustrative of the remarkable character of the 
man. 

The Grand Duke having expressed a decided opinion 
that the model, when shown to him in wax, could not 
possibly be cast in bronze, Cellini was immediately 
stimulated by the predicted impossibility, not only to 
attempt, but to do it. He first made the clay model, 
baked it, and covered it with wax, which he shaped into 
the perfect form of a statue. Then coating the wax 
with a sort of earth, he baked the second covering, 
during which the wax dissolved and escaped, leaving 
the space between the two layers for the reception of 
the metal. To avoid disturbance, the latter process was 
conducted in a pit dug immediately under the furnace, 
from which the liquid metal was to be introduced by 
pipes and apertures into the mould prepared for it 



Benvenuto Cellini. ill 

Cellini had purchased and laid in several loads of 
pine- wood in anticipation of the process of casting, 
which now began. The furnace was filled with pieces 
of brass and bronze, and the fire was lit. The resinous 
pine-wood was soon in such a furious blaze, that the 
shop took fire, and part of the roof was burnt ; while at 
the same time the wind blowing and the rain falling on 
the furnace, kept down the heat, and prevented the 
metals from melting. For hours Cellini struggled to 
keep up the heat, continually throwing in more wood, 
until at length he became so exhausted and ill, that he 
feared he should die before the statue could be cast. 
He was forced to leave to his assistants the pouring in 
of the metal when melted, and betook himself to his 
bed. While those about him were condoling with him 
in his distress, a workman suddenly entered the room, 
lamenting that a poor Benvenuto's work was irretriev- 
ably spoiled !" On hearing this, Cellini immediately 
sprang from his bed and rushed to the workshop, where 
he found the fire so much gone down that the metal had 
again become hard. 

Sending across to a neighbor for a load of young oak 
which had been more than a year in drying, he soon 
had the fire blazing again and the metal melting and 
glittering. The wind was, however, still blowing with 
fury, and the rain falling heavily ; so, to protect himself, 
Cellini had some tables with pieces of tapestry and old 
clothes brought to him behind which he went on hurl- 
ing the wood into the furnace. A mass of pewter was 



478 His Statue of Perseus. 

thrown in upon the other metal, and by stirring, some- 
times with iron and sometimes with long poles, the 
whole soon became completely melted. At this junc- 
ture, when the trying moment was close at hand, a ter- 
rible noise as of a thunderbolt was heard, and a glitter- 
ing of fire flashed before Cellini's eyes. The cover of 
the furnace had burst, and the metal began to flow! 
Finding that it did not run with the proper velocity, 
Cellini rushed into the kitchen, bore away every piece 
of copper and pewter that it contained — some two 
hundred porringers, dishes, and kettles of different kinds 
— and threw them into the furnace. Then at length 
the metal flowed freely, and thus the splendid statue of 
Perseus was cast. 

The divine fury of genius in which Cellini rushed to 
his kitchen and stripped it of its utensils for the pur- 
poses of his furnace, will remind the reader of the like 
act of Palissy in breaking up his furniture for the pur- 
pose of baking his earthenware. Excepting, however, 
in their enthusiasm, no two men could be less alike in 
character. Cellini was an Ishmael against whom, ac- 
cording to his own account, every man's hand was turn- 
ed. But about his extraordinary skill as a workman, 
and his genius as an artist, there can not be two opin- 
ions. 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 



MEN OF BUSINESS, 



Hazlitt's Definition of the Man of Business. — The Chief Requisite Qualities. 
— Men of Genius Men of Business. — Labor and Application Necessary to 
Success. — The School of Difficulty a Good School. — Conditions of Success 
in Law.— The Industrious Architect.— The Salutary Influence of Work. 
— Consequences of Contempt for Arithmetic. — Dr. Johnson on the Alleged 
Injustice of "the World." — Practical Qualities Necessary in Business. — 
Importance of Accuracy. — Method. — Value of Time. — Promptitude. — 
Economy of Time. — Punctuality. 



" Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings." 
— Proverbs of Solomon. 

\\ T AZLITT, in one of his clever essays, represents 
■ A ~ L the man of business as a mean sort of person put 
in a go-cart, yoked to a trade or profession; alleging 
that all he has to do is, not to go out of the beaten 
track, but merely to let his affairs take their own 
course. u The great requisite," he says, " for the pros- 
perous management of ordinary business is the want of 
imagination, or of any ideas but those of custom and 
interest on the narrowest scale. But nothing could be 
more one-sided, and in effect untrue, than such a defi- 
nition. Of course, there are narrow-minded men of 
business, as there are narrow-minded scientific men, 
literary men, and legislators; but there are also busi- 

479 



480 Genius and Business. 

ness men of large and comprehensive minds, capable of 
action on the very largest scale. As Burke said in his 
speech on the India Bill, he knew statesmen who were 
pedlers, and merchants who acted in the spirit of 
statesmen. 

If we take into account the qualities necessary for the 
successful conduct of any important undertaking — -that 
it requires special aptitude, promptitude of action on 
emergencies, capacity for organizing the labors often 
of large numbers of men, great tact and knowledge of 
human nature, constant self-culture, and growing expe- 
rience in the practical affairs of life — it must, we think, 
be obvious that the school of business is by no means 
so narrow as some writers would have us believe. Mr. 
Helps has gone much nearer the truth when he said that 
consummate men of business are as rare almost as great 
poets — rarer, perhaps, than veritable saints and martyrs. 
Indeed, of no other pursuits can it so emphatically 
be said, as of this, that " Business makes men." 

It has, however, been a favorite fallacy with dunces 
in all times, that men of genius are unfitted for business, 
as well as that business occupations unfit men for the 
pursuits of genius. The unhappy youth who committed 
suicide a few years since because he had been " born to 
be a man and condemned to be a grocer, 1 ' proved by 
the act that his soul was not equal even to the dignity 
of grocery. For it is not the calling that degrades the 
man, but the man that degrades the calling. All work 
that brings honest gain is honorable, whether it be of 



Genius and Business. 481 

hand or mind. The fingers may be soiled, yet the heart 
remain pure; for it is not material so much as moral 
dirt that defiles: — greed far more than grime, and vice 
than verdigris. 

The greatest have not disdained to labor honestly and 
usefully for a living, though at the same time aiming 
after higher things. Thales, the first of the seven sages, 
Solon, the second founder of Athens, and Hyperates, 
the mathematician, were all traders. \ Plato, called the 
Divine by reason of the excellence of his wisdom, de- 
frayed his traveling expenses in Egypt by the profits 
derived from the oil which he sold during his journey. 
Spinoza maintained himself by polishing glasses while 
he pursued his philosophical investigations. Linneaeus, 
the great botanist, prosecuted his studies while ham- 
mering leather and making shoes. Shakspeare was a. 
successful manager of a theatre — perhaps priding him- 
self more upon his practical qualities in that capacity 
than on his writing of plays and poetry. Pope was of 
opinion that Shakspeare 7 s principal object in cultivat- 
ing literature was to secure an honest independence. 
Indeed he seems to have been altogether indifferent to 
literary reputation. It is not known that he superin- 
tended the publication of a single play, or even sanc- 
tioned the printing of one; and the chronology of his 
writings is still a mystery. It is certain, however, that 
he prospered in his business, and realized sufficient to 
enable him to retire on a competency to his native town 
of Stratford-uoon- Avon. 
3i 



482 Great Men of Business. 

Chaucer was in early life a soldier, and afterwards an 
effective Commissioner of Customs, and Inspector oi 
Woods and Crown Lands. Spenser was Secretary to 
the Lord Deputy of Ireland, was afterwards Sheriff of 
Cork, and is said to have been shrewd and attentive in 
matters of business. Milton, originally a schoolmaster, 
was elevated to the post of Secretary to the Council of 
State during the Commonwealth; and the extant Order- 
book of the Council, as well as many of Milton's letters 
which are preserved, give abundant evidence of his ac- 
tivity and usefulness in that office. Sir Isaac Newton 
proved himself an efficient Master of the Mint, the new 
coinage of 1694 having been carried on under his im- 
mediate personal superintendence. Cowper prided him- 
self upon his business punctuality, though he confessed 
that he "never knew a poet, except himself, who was 
punctual in any thing. 71 But against this we ma}' set 
the lives of Woodsworth and Scott — the former a dis- 
tributer of stamps, the latter a clerk to the Court of 
Session — both of whom, though great poets, were emi- 
nently punctual and practical men of business. David 
Ricardo, amidst the occupations of his daily business 
as a London stock-jobber, in conducting which he ac- 
quired an ample fortune, was able to concentrate his 
mind upon his favorite subject — on which he was ena- 
bled to throw great light — the principles of political 
economy; for he united in himself the sagacious com- 
mercial man and the profound philosopher. Baily, the 
eminent astronomer, was another stock-broker* 



Success in Business. 483 

We have abundant illustrations, in our own day, of 
the fact that the highest intellectual power is not 
incompatible with the active and efficient performance 
of routine duties. Grote, the great historian of Greece, 
was a London banker. And it is not long since John 
Stuart Mill, one of our greatest living thinkers, retired 
from the Examiner's department of the East India Com- 
pany, carrying with him the admiration and esteem of 
his fellow-officers, not on account of his high views of 
philosophy, but because of the high standard of effi- 
ciencv which he had established in his office, and the 
thoroughly satisfactory manner in which he had con- 
ducted the business of his department. 

The path of success in business is usually the path of 
common sense. Patient labor and application are as 
necessary here as in the acquisition of knowledge or the 
pursuit of science. The old Greeks said, " To become 
an able man in any profession, three things are neces- 
sary—nature, stud}', and practice." In business, prac- 
tice, wisely and diligently improved, is the great secret 
of success. Some may make what are called " lucky 
hits," but like money earned by gambling, such "hits" 
may only serve to lure one to ruin. Bacon was accus- 
tomed to say that it was in business as in ways — the 
nearest way was commonly the foulest, and that if a 
man would go the fairest way he must go somewhat 
about. The journey may occupy a longer time, but 
the pleasure of the labor involved by it, and the enjoy- 
ments of the results produced, will be more genuine 



484 Effects of Practiced Industry. 

and unalloyed. To have a daily appointed task of even 
common drudgery to do makes the rest of life feel all 
the sweeter. 

The fable of the labors of Hercules is the type of all 
human doing and success. Every youth should be 
made to feel that his happiness and well-doing in life 
must necessarily rely mainly on himself and the exer- 
cise of his own energies, rather than upon the help and 
patronage of others. The late Lord Melbourne embod- 
ied a piece of useful advice in a letter which he wrote 
to Lord John Russell, in reply to an application for a 
provision for one of Moore the poet's sons: "My dear 
John,' 1 he said, " I return you Moore's letter. I shall 
be ready to do what you like about it when we have 
the means. I think whatever is done should be done 
for Moore himself. This is more distinct, direct, and 
intelligible. Making a small provision for young men 
is hardly justifiable; and it is of all things the most 
prejudicial to themselves. They think what they have 
much larger than it really is; and they make no exer- 
tion. The young should never hear any language but 
this: 'You have your own way to make, and it depends 
upon your own exertions whether you starve or not. 1 
Believe me, etc., Melbourne." 

Practical industry, wisely and vigorously applied, 
always produces its due. effects. It carries a man on- 
ward, brings out his individual character, and stimulates 
the action of others. All may not rise equally, yet 
each, on the whole, very much according to his deserts. 



Effects of Practical Industry. 485 

" Though all can not live on the piazza," as the Tuscan 
proverb has it, " every one may feel the sun."" 

On the whole, it is not good that human nature 
should have the road of life made too easy. Better to 
be under the necessity of working hard and faring 
meanly, than to have everything done ready to our 
hand and a pillow of down to repose upon. Indeed, to 
start in life with comparatively small means seems so 
necessary as a stimulus to work, that it may almost be 
set down as one of the conditions essential to success in 
life. Hence, an eminent judge, when asked what 
contributed most to succes at the bar, replied, " Some 
succeed by great talent, some by high connections, some 
by miracle, but the majority by commencing without a 
shilling.' ' 

We have heard of an architect of considerable ac- 
complishments — a man who had improved himself by 
long study, and travel in the classical lands of the East 
— who came home to commence the practice of his 
profession. He determined to begin anywhere provided 
he could be employed, and he accordingly undertook a 
business connected with dilapidations — one of the low- 
est and least remunerative departments of the architect's 
calling. But he had the good sense not to be above 
his trade, and he had the resolution to work his way 
upward, so that he only got a fair start, One hot day 
in July a friend found him sitting astride of a house- 
roof occupied with his dilapidation business. Drawing 
his hand across his perspiring countenance, he ex- 



486 The Necessity of Labor. 

claimed, " Here's a pretty business for a man who has 
been all over Greece! 1 ' However, he did his work, 
such as it was, thoroughly and well; he persevered 
until he advanced by degrees to more remunerative 
branches of employment, and eventually he rose to the 
highest walks of his profession. 

The necessity of labor may, indeed, be regarded as 
the main root and spring of all that we call progress in 
individuals,* and civilization in nations; and it is doubt- 
ful that any heavier curse could be imposed on man 
than the gratification of all his wishes without effort on 
his part, leaving nothing for his hopes, desires, or 
struggles. The feeling that life is destitute of any mo- 
tive or necessity for action, must be of all others the 
most distressing and insupportable to a rational being. 
The Marquis de Spinola asking Sir Horace Vere what 
his brother died of, Sir Horace replied, " He died, sir, 
of having nothing to do." " Alas!" said Spinola, " that 
is enough to kill any general of us all." 

Those who fail in life are however very apt to assume 
a tone of injured innocence, and conclude too hastily 
that everybody excepting themselves has had a hand in 
their personal misfortunes. An eminent writer lately 
published a book, in which he described his numerous 
failures in business, naively admitting, at the same 
time, that he was ignorant of the multiplication-table; 
and he came to the conclusion that the real cause of 
his ill-success in life was the money-worshiping spirit 
of the age. Lamartine also did not hesitate to profess 



Misfortune and Ill-Luck. 487 

his contempt for arithmetic; but, had it been less, 
probably we should not have witnessed the unseemly 
spectacle of the admirers of that distinguished personage 
engaged in collecting subscriptions for his support in 
his old age. 

Again some consider themselves born to ill-luck, and 
make up their minds that the world invariably goes 
against them without any fault on their own part. We 
have heard of a person of this sort who went so far as 
to declare his belief that if he had been a hatter, people 
would have been born without heads! There is, how- 
ever, a Russian proverb which says that Misfortune is 
next door to Stupidity; and it will often be found that 
men who are constantly lamenting their luck, are in 
some way or other reaping the consequences of their 
own neglect, mismanagement, improvidence, or want 
of application. Dr. Johnson, who came up to London 
with a single guinea in his pocket, and who once ac- 
curately described himself in his signature to a letter 
addressed to a noble lord, as Imftransus, or Dinnerless, 
has honestly said, " All the complaints which are made 
of the world are unjust; I never knew a man of merit 
neglected; it was generally by his own fault that he 
failed of success.'' 7 

Washington Irving, the American author, held like 
views. " As for the talk," said he, " about modest 
merit being neglected, it is too often a cant, by which 
indolent and irresolute men seek to lay their want of 
success at the door of the public. Modest merit is, 



488 Misfortune and Ill-Luck. 

however, too apt to be inactive, or negligent, or unin- 
structed merit. Well-matured and well-disciplined tal- 
ent is always sure of a market, provided it exerts itself; 
but it must not cower at home and expect to be sought 
for. There is a good deal of cant, too, about the suc- 
cess of forward and impudent men, while men of 
retiring worth are passed over with neglect. But it 
usually happens that those forward men have that val- 
uable quality of promptness and activity without which 
worth is a mere inoperative property. A barking dog 
is often more useful than a sleeping lion. 7 ' 

Attention, application, accuracy, method, punctuality, 
and dispatch are the principal qualities required for the 
efficient conduct of business of any sort. These, at first 
sight, may appear to be small matters; and yet they are 
of essential importance to human happiness, well-being, 
and usefulness. They are little things, it is true; but 
human life is made up of comparative trifles. It is the 
repetition of little acts which constitutes not only the 
sum of human character, but which determines the 
character of nations. And where men or nations have 
broken down, it will almost invariably be found that 
neglect of little things was the rock on which they split. 
Every human being has duties to be performed, and,, 
therefore, has need of cultivating the capacity for doing 
them; whether the sphere of action be the management 
of a household, the conduct of a trade or profession or 
the government of a nation. 

The examples we have already given of great work- 



Action in Detail. ±89 

ers in various branches of industry, art, and science, 
render it unnecessary further to enforce the importance 
of persevering application in any department of life. 
It is the result of every-day experience, that steady at- 
tention to matters of detail lies at the root of human 
progress; and that diligence, above all, is the mother 
of good luck. Accuracy is also of much importance, 
and an invariable mark of good training in a man — ac- 
curacy in observation, accuracy in speech, accuracy in 
the transaction of affairs. What is done in business 
must be well done; for it is better to accomplish per- 
fectly a small amount of work, than to half-do ten times 
as much. A wise man used to say, " Stay a little, that 
we may make an end the sooner." 

Too little attention, however, is paid to this highly 
important quality of accuracy. As a man eminent in 
practical science lately observed to us, " it is astonish- 
ing how few people I have met with in the course of 
my experience who can define a fact accurately." Yet 
in business affairs, it is the manner in which even small 
matters are transacted, that often decides men for or 
against you. With virtue, capacity, and good conduct 
in other respects, the person who is habitually inaccu- 
rate cannot be trusted; his work has to be gone over 
again; and he thus causes an infinity of annoyance, 
vexation and trouble. 

It was one of the characteristic qualities of Charles 
James Fox, that he was thoroughly pains-taking in all 
that he did. When appointed Secretary of State, being 



490 JSfeecessity of Accuracy in Business. 

piqued at some observation as to his bad writing, he 
actually took a writing-master, and wrote copies like 
a school-boy until he had sufficiently improved himself. 
Though a corpulent man, he was wonderfully active at 
picking up cut tennis balls, and when asked how he con- 
trived to do so, he playfully replied, " Because I am a 
very pains-taking man." The same accuracy in trifling 
matters was displayed by him in things of greater im- 
portance; and he acquired his reputation, like the painter 
by " neglecting nothing." 

Method is essential, and enables a larger amount of 
work to be got through with satisfaction. " Method," 
said the Rev. Richard Cecil, " is like packing things in 
a box; a good packer will get in half as much again as 
a bad one." Cecil's dispatch of business was extraor- 
dinary, his maxim being, " the shortest way to do many 
things is to do only one thing at once;" and he never left 
a thing undone with a view of recurring to it at a period 
of more leisure. When business pressed, he rather chose 
to encroach on his hours of meals and rest than omit 
any part of his work. De Witt's maxim was like Cecil's: 
" One thing at a time." " If," said he, " I have any 
necessary dispatches to make, I think of nothing else 
till they are finished; if any domestic affairs require my 
attention, I give myself wholly up to them till they are 
set in order c " 

A French minister, who .was alike remarkable for 
his dispatch of business and his constant attendance at 
places of amusement, being asked how he contrived to 



Necessity of Accuracy in Business. 491 

combine both objects, replied, u Simply by never post- 
poning till to-morrow what should be done to-day. " 
JLord Brougham has said that a certain English states- 
man reversed the process, and that his maxim was, 
never to transact to-day what could be postponed till 
to-morrow. Unhappily, such is the practice of many 
beside that minister, already almost forgotten; the 
practice is that of the indolent and the unsuccessful. 
Such men, too, are apt to rely upon agents, who are not 
always to be relied upon. " If you want your business 
done, 1 ' says the proverb, " go and do it; if you don't 
want it done, send some one else." 

An indolent country gentleman had a freehold estate 
producing about five hundred a year. Becoming in- 
volved in debt, he sold half the estate, and let the re- 
mainder to an industrious farmer for twenty years. 
About the end of the term the farmer called to pay 
his rent, and asked the owner whether he would sell 
the farm. " Will you buy it?" asked the owner sur- 
prised. " Yes, if we can agree about the price." " That 
is exceedingly strange," observed the gentleman;. pray, 
tell me how it happens that, while I could not live 
upon twice as much land for which I paid no rent, you 
are regularly paying me two hundred a year for your 
farm, and are able, in a few years, to purchase it." 
" The reason is plain," was the reply; " you sat still and 
said Go, I got up and said Come; you lay in bed and 
enjoyed your estate, I rose in the morning and minded 
my business." 



492 Promptitude in Action. 

Sir Walter Scott, writing to a youth who had ob- 
tained a situation and asked for his advice, gave him 
in reply this sound counsel: " Beware of stumbling over 
a propensity which easily besets you from not having 
your time fully employed — J -mean what the women 
call dawdling. Your motto must be, Hoc age. Do 
instantly whatever is to be done, and take the hours of 
recreation after business, never before it. When a reg- 
iment is under march, the rear is often thrown into con- 
fusion because the front does not move steadily and 
without interruption. It is the same with business. If 
that which is first in hand is not instantly, steadily, and 
regularly dispatched, other things accumulate behind, 
till affairs begin to press all at once, and no human 
brain can stand the confusion." 

Promptitude in action may be stimulated by a due 
consideration of the value of time. An Italian philoso- 
pher was accustomed to call time his estate: an estate 
which produces nothing of value without cultivation, 
but, duly improved, never fails to recompense the la- 
bors of the diligent worker. Allowed to lie waste, the 
product will be only noxious weeds and vicious growths 
of all kinds. One of the minor uses of steady employ- 
ment is, that it keeps one out of mischief, for truly an 
idle brain is the devil's workshop, and a lazy man the 
devil's bolster. To be occupied is to be possessed as by 
a tenant, whereas to be idle is to be empty; and when 
the doors of the imagination are opened, temptation 
finds a ready access, and evil thoughts come trooping 



Promptitude. 493 

in. It is observed at sea, that men are never so much 
disposed to grumble and mutiny as when least employ- 
ed. Hence an old captain, when there was nothing else 
to do, would issue the order to " scour the anchor!" 

Men of business are accustomed to quote the maxim 
that Time is money; but it is more; the proper im- 
provement of it is self-culture, self-improvement, and 
growth of character. An hour wasted daily on trifles 
or in indolence, would, if devoted to ^self-improvement, 
make an ignorant man wise in a few years, and, em- 
ployed in good works, would make his life fruitful, and 
death a harvest of worthy deeds. Fifteen minutes a 
day devoted to self-improvement, will be felt at the end 
of the year. Good thoughts and carefully gathered 
experience take up no room, and may be carried about 
as our companions everywhere, without cost or incum- 
brance. An economical use of time is the true mode 
of securing leisure: it enables us to get through busi- 
ness and carry it forward, instead of being driven by 
it. On the other hand, the miscalculation of time in- 
volves us in perpetual hurry, confusion, and difficulties; 
and life becomes a mere shuffle of expedients, usually 
followed by disaster. Nelson once said, u I owe all my 
success in life to having been always a quarter of an 
hour before my time." 

Some take no thought of the value of money until 
they have come to an end of it, and many do the same 
with their time. The hours are allowed to flow by un- 
employed, and then, when life is fast waning, they be- 



494 The Value of Time. 

think themselves of the duty of making a wiser use of 
it. But the habit of listlessness and idleness may al- 
ready have become confirmed, and they are unable to 
break the bonds with which they have permitted them- 
selves to become bound. Lost wealth may be replaced 
by industry, lost knowledge by study, lost health by 
temperance or medicine, but lost time is gone forever. 
A proper consideration of the value of time will also 
inspire habits of punctuality. "Punctuality," said Louis 
XIV., " is the politeness of kings." It is also the duty 
of gentlemen, and the necessity of men of business. 
Nothing begets confidence in a man sooner than the 
practice of this virtue, and nothing shakes confidence 
sooner than the want of it. He who holds to his ap- 
pointment and does not keep you waiting for him, shows 
that he has regard for your time as well as for his own. 
Thus punctuality is one of the modes by which we tes- 
tify our personal respect for those whom we are called 
upon to meet in the business of life. It is also conscien- 
tiousness, in a measure; for an appointment is a con- 
tract, express or implied, and he who does not keep it 
breaks faith, as well as dishonestly uses other people's 
time, and thus inevitably loses character. We nat- 
urally come to the conclusion that the person who is 
careless about time is careless about business, and that 
he is not the one to be trusted with the transaction of 
matters of importance. When Washington's secretary 
excused himself for the lateness of his attendance and 
laid the blame upon his watch, his master quietly said, 



Punctuality' 495 

c 'Then you must get another watch, or I another secre- 
tary." 

The person who is negligent of time and its employ- 
ment is usually found to be a general disturber of oth- 
ers' peace and serenity. It was wittily said by Lord 
Chesterfield of the old Duke of Newcastle — " His. 
Grace loses an hour in the morning, and is looking for 
it all the rest of the day." Every body with whom the 
unpunctual man has to do is thrown ffom time to time 
into a state of fever: he is systematically late; regular 
only in his irregularity. He conducts his dawdling as 
if upon system; arrives at his appointment after time; 
gets to the railway station after the train has started; 
posts his letter when the box has closed. Thus bu- 
siness is thrown into confusion, and every body con- 
cerned is put out of temper. It will generally be found 
that the men who are thus habitually behind time are 
as habitually behind success; and the world generally 
casts them aside to swell the ranks of the grumblers and 
the railers against fortune. 




CHAPTER XXXIX. 



MEN OF BUSINESS EXAMPLES. 



Firmness. — Tact. — Napoleon and Wellington, as Men of Business. — Napo- 
leon's Attention to Details. — The "Napoleon Correspondence." — Welling- 
ton's Business Faculty. — Wellington in the Peninsula. — " Honesty the 
best Policy." — Trade Tries Character. — Dishonest Grains. 



"That man is but of the lower part of the world that is not brought up 
to business and affairs."— Owen Feltham. 



TN addition to the ordinary working qualities, the 
-*" business man of the highest class requires quick per- 
ception and firmness in the execution of his plans. Tact 
is also important; and though this is partly the gift of 
nature, it is yet capable of being cultivated and de- 
veloped by observation and experience. Men of this 
quality are quick to see the right mode of action, and 
if they have decision of purpose, are prompt to carry 
out their undertakings to a successful issue. These 
qualities are especially valuable, and indeed indispens- 
able, in those who direct the action of other men on a 
large scale, as for instance, in the case of the command- 
er of an army in the field. It is not merely necessary 
that the general should be great as a warrior but also 
as a man of business. He must possess great tact, 

496 



Great Generals Men of Business. 497 

much knowledge of character, and ability to organize 
the movements of a large mass of men, whom he has to 
feed, clothe, and furnish with whatever may be necessary 
in order that they may keep the field and win battles. 
In these respects Napoleon and Wellington were both 
first-rate men of business. 

Though Napoleon had an immense love for details, 
he had also a vivid power of imagination, which enabled 
him to look along extended lines of \ action, and deal 
with those details on a large scale, with judgment and 
rapidity. He possessed such knowledge of character 
as enabled him to select, almost unerringly, the best 
agents for the execution of his designs. But he trusted 
as little as possible to agents in matters of great 
moment, on which important results depended. This 
feature in his character is illustrated in a remarkable de- 
gree by the " Napoleon Correspondence," now in course 
of publication, and particularly by the contents of the 
fifteenth volume, which include the letters, orders, and 
dispatches written by the Emperor at Finkenstein, a 
little chateau on the frontier of Poland in the year 1807, 
shortly after the victory of Eylau. 

The French army^was then lying encamped along 
the river Passarge, with the Russians before them, the 
Austrians on the right flank, and the conquered Prus- 
sians in their rear. A long line of communications had 
to be maintained with France, through a hostile coun- 
try; but so carefully, and with such forsight was this 
provided for, that it is said Napoleon never missed a 
32 



498 JVapoleon Bonaparte. 

post. The movements ot armies, the bringing up of re. 
inforcements from remote points in France, Spain, Italy, 
and Germany, the openings of canals and the levelling 
of roads to enable the produce of Poland and Prussia 
to be readily transported to his encampments, had his 
unceasing attention, down to the minutest details. We 
find him directing where horses were to be obtained, 
making arrangements for an adequate supply of saddles, 
ordering shoes for the soldiers, and specifying the 
number of rations of bread, biscuit, and spirits that 
were to be brought to camp, or stored in magazines for 
the use of the troops. At the same time we find him 
writing to Paris, giving directions for the reorganiza- 
tion of the French College, devising a scheme of public 
education, dictating bulletins and articles for the " Mon- 
iteur," revising the details of the budgets, giving in- 
structions to archetects as to alterations to be made at 
the Tuileries and the Church of the Madelaine, throw- 
ing an occasional sarcasm at Madame de Stael and the 
Parisian journals, interfering to put down a squabble 
at the Grand Opera, carrying on a correspondence 
with the Sultan of Turkey and the Shah of Persia, so 
that while his body was at Finkenstein his mind seemed 
to be working at a hundred different places in Paris, in 
Europe, and throughout the world. 

We find him in one letter asking Ney if he has duly 
received the muskets which have been sent him; in an- 
other he gives directions to Prince Jerome as to the 
shirts, great-coats, clothes, shoes, shakos, and arms, to 



The Napoleon Correspondence. 499 

be served out to the Wurtemburg regiments; again he 
presses Cambaceres to forward to the army a double 
stock of corn — " The ifs and the buts" said he, " are at 
present out of season, and above all it must be done 
with speed." Then he informs Daru that the army 
wants shirts, and that they don't come to hand. To 
Massena he writes, " Let me know if your buiscuit and 
bread arrangements are yet completed." To the Grand 
Due de Berg, he gives directions as to the accoutre- 
ments of the cuirassiers — "They complain that the 
men want sabres; send an officer to obtain them at 
Posen. It is also said they want helmets; order that 

they be made at Ebling It is not by sleeping 

that one can accomplish any thing.'" Thus no point ot 
detail was neglected, and the energies of all were stim- 
ulated into action with extraordinary power. Though 
many of the Emperor's days were occupied by inspec- 
tions of his troops — in the course of which he sometimes 
rode from thirty to forty leagues a day — and by reviews, 
receptions, and affairs of state, leaving but little time for 
business matters, he neglected nothing on that account ; 
but devoted the greater part of his nights, when neces- 
sary, to examining budgets, dictating dispatches, and 
attending to the thousand matters of detail in the or- 
ganization and working of the Imperial Government; 
the machinery of which was for the most part concen- 
trated in his own head. 

Like Napoleon, the Duke of Wellington was a first- 
rate man of business; and it is not perhaps saying too 



500 Wellington. 

much to aver that it was in no small degree because 
of his possession of a busines faculty amounting to genius, 
that the Duke never lost a battle. 

While a subaltern, he became dissatisfied with the 
slowness of his promotion, and having passed from the 
infantry to the cavalry twice, and back again, without 
advancement, he applied to Lord Camden, then Vice- 
roy of Ireland, for employment in the Revenue or 
Treasury Board. Had he succeeded, no doubt he would 
have made a first-rate head of a department, as he would 
have made a first-rate merchant or manufacturer. But 
his application failed, and he remained with the army 
to become the greatest of British generals. 

The Duke began his active military career under the 
Duke of York and General Walmoden, in Flanders and 
Holland, where he learnt, amidst misfortunes and de- 
feats, how bad business arrangements and bad general- 
ship serve to ruin the morale of an army. Ten years 
after entering the army we find him a colonel in India, 
reported by his superiors as an officer of indefatigable 
energy and application. He entered into the minutest 
details of the service, and sought to raise the discipline 
of his men of the highest standard. " The regiment of 
Colonel Wellesley," wrote General Harris in 1799, "is 
a model regiment; on the score of soldierly bearing, 
discipline, instruction, and orderly behavior it is above 
all praise." Thus qualifying himself for posts of great- 
er confidence, he was shortly after nominated governor 
of the capital of Mysore. In the war with the Mahrat- 



Wellington in India. 501 

tas he was first called upon to try his hand at general- 
ship; and at thirty-four he won the memorable battle 
of Assaye, with an army composed of 1,500 British and 
5,000 Sepoys, over 20,000 Mahratta infantry and 30,000 
cavalry. But so brilliant a victory did not in the least 
disturb his equanimity, or affect the perfect honesty of 
his character. Shortly after this event the opportunity 
occurred for exhibiting his admirable practical qualities 
as an administrator. Placed in command of an import- 
ant district immediately after the capture of Seringapa- 
tam, his first object was to establish rigid order and 
discipline among his own men. Flushed with victory, 
the troops were found riotous and disorderly. " Send 
me the provost-marshal," said he, " and put him under 
my orders: till some of the marauders are hung, it is 
impossible to expect order or safety." This rigid 
severity of Wellington in the field, though it was the 
dread, proved the salvation of his troops in many cam- 
paigns. His next step was to re-establish the markets 
and re-open the sources of supply. General Harris 
wrote to the Governor-general, strongly commending 
Colonel Wellesley for the perfect discipline he had es- 
tablished, and for his "judicious and masterly arrange- 
ments in respect to supplies, which opened an abundant 
free market, and inspired confidence into dealers of 
every description." The same close attention to, and 
mastery of details, characterized him throughout his 
Indian career; and it is remarkable that one of his 
ablest dispatches to Lord Clive, full of practical infor- 



502 Wellington in the Peninsula. 

mation as to the conduct of the campaign, was written 
whilst the column he commanded was crossing the 
Toombuddra, in the face of the vastly superior army 
of Dhoondiah, posted on the opposite bank, and while a 
thousand matters of the deepest interest were pressing 
upon the commander's mind. But it was one of his 
most remarkable characteristics, thus to be able to 
withdraw himself temporarily from the business im- 
mediately in hand, and to bend his full powers upon the 
consideration of matters totally distinct; even the 
most difficult circumstances on such occasions failing to 
embarrass or intimidate him. 

Returned to England with a reputation for general- 
ship, Sir Arthur Wellesley met with immediate em- 
ployment. In 1808 a corps of 10,000 men destined to 
liberate Portugal was placed under his charge. He 
landed, fought and won two battles, and signed the 
Convention of Cintra. After the death of Sir John 
Moore he was intrusted with the command of a new 
expedition in Portugal. But Wellington was fearfully 
overmatched throughout his Peninsular campaigns. 
From 1809 to 181 3 he never had more than 30,000 
British troops under his command, at a time when 
there stood opposed to him in the Peninsula some 
350,000 French, mostly veterans, led by some of Na- 
poleon's ablest generals. How was he to contend 
against such immense force with any fair prospect of 
success? His clear discernment and strong common 
sense soon taught him that he must adopt a different 



Wellington 's Business Genius. 503 

policy from that of the Spanish generals, who were in- 
variably beaten and dispersed whenever they ventured 
to offer battle in the open plains. He perceived he had 
yet to create the army that was to contend against 
the French with any reasonable chance of success. 
Accordingly, after the battle of Talavera in 1809, when 
he found himself encompassed on all sides by superior 
forces of French, he retired into Portugal, there to carry 
out the settled policy on which he had by this time 
determined. It was, to organize a Portuguese army 
under British officers, and teach them to act in combi- 
nation with his own troops, in the mean time avoiding 
the peril of a defeat by declining all engagements. 
He would thus, he conceived, destroy the morale of 
the French, who could not exist without victories; 
and when his army was ripe for action, and the enemy 
demoralized, he would then fall upon them with all his 
might. 

The extraordinary qualities displayed. by Lord Wel- 
lington throughout these immortal campaigns, can only 
be appreciated after a perusal of his dispatches, which 
contain the unvarnished tale of the manifold ways and 
means by which he laid the foundations of his success. 
Never was man more tried by difficulty and opposi- 
tion, arising not less from the imbecility, falsehoods, 
and intrigues of the British Government of the day, 
than from the selfishness, cowardice, and vanity of the 
peoople he went to save. It may, indeed, be said of 
him, that he sustained, the war in Spain b} T his indi- 



504 Wellington 's Honesty* 

vidual firmness and self reliance, which never failed him, 
even in the midst of his greatest discouragements. He 
had not only to fight Napoleon's veterans, but also to 
hold in check the Spanish juntas and the Portuguese 
regency. He had the utmost difficulty in obtaining pro- 
visions and clothing for his troops; and it will scarcely 
be credited that, while engaged with the enemy in the 
battle of Talavera, the Spaniards, who ran away, fell 
upon the baggage of the British army, and the ruffians 
actually plundered it ! These and other vexations the 
Duke bore with a sublime patience and self-control, and 
held on his course, in the face of ingratitude, treachery, 
and opposition, with indomitable firmness. He - neg- 
lected nothing, and attended to every important detail 
of business himself. When he found that food for his 
troops was not to be obtained from England, and that 
he must rely upon his own resources for feeding them, 
he forthwith commenced business as a corn-merchant 
on a large scale, in copartnery with the British Minis- 
ter at Lisbon. Commissariat bills were created, with 
which grain was bought in the ports of the Meditera- 
nean and in South America. When he had thus filled 
his magazines, the overplus was sold to the Portuguese, 
who were greatly in want of provisions. He left noth- 
ing whatever to chance, but provided for every contin- 
gency. He gave his attention to the minutest details 
of the service; and was accustomed to concentrate his 
whole energies, from time to time, on such apparently 
ignominious matters as soldiers' shoes, camp-kettles : , 



Honesty the Best Policy. 505 

biscuits, and horse-fodder. His magnificent business 
qualities were everywhere felt; and there can be no 
doubt that, by the care with which he provided for 
every contingency, and the personal attention which he 
gave to every detail, he laid the foundations of his great 
success. By such means he transformed an army of 
raw levies into the best soldiers in Europe, with whom 
he declared it to be possible to go anywhere and do 
any thing. x 

We have already referred to his remarkable power 
of abstracting himself from the work, no matter how 
engrossing, immediately in hand, and concentrating his 
energies upon the details of some entirely different bus- 
iness. Thus Napier relates that it was while he was 
preparing to fight the battle of Salamanca that he had 
to expose to the Ministers at home the futility of rely- 
ing upon a loan; it was on the heights of San Christo- 
val, on the field of battle itself, that he demonstrated 
the absurdity of attempting to establish a Portuguese 
bank; it was in the trenches of Burgos that he dissect- 
ed Funchal's scheme of finance, and exposed the folly 
of attempting the sale of church property ; and on each 
occasion he showed himself as well acquainted with 
these subjects as with the minutest detail in the mech- 
anism of armies. 

Another feature in his character, showing the upright 
man of business, was his thorough honesty. Whilst 
Soult ransacked and carried away with him from Spain 
numerous pictures of great value, Wellington did not 



506 Honesty the Best Policy. 

appropriate to himself a single farthing's worth of prop- 
erty. Everywhere he paid his way, even when in the 
enemy's country. When he had crossed the French 
frontier, followed by 40,000 Spaniards, who sought to 
" make fortunes" by pillage and plunder, he first 
rebuked their officers, and then, finding his efforts to 
restrain them unavailing, he sent them back into their 
own country. It is a remarkable fact, that, even in 
France, the peasantry fled from their own countrymen, 
and carried their valuables within the protection of the 
British lines! At the very same time. Wellington was 
writing home to the British Ministry, ' We are over- 
whelmed with debts, and I can scarcely stir out of my 
house on account of public creditors waiting to demand 
payment of what is due to them.'" Jules Maurel, in 
his estimate of the Duke's character, says, " Nothing 
can be grander or more nobly original than this admis- 
sion. This old soldier, after thirty } T ears' service, this 
iron man and victorious general, established in an ene- 
my's country at the head of an immense army, is afraid 
of his creditors ! This is a kind of fear that has seldom 
troubled the mind of conquerors and invaders; and I 
doubt if the annals of war could present any thing com- 
parable to this sublime simplicity." But the Duke him- 
self, had the matter been put to him, would most pro- 
bably have disclaimed any attention of acting even 
grandly or nobly in the matter; merely regarding the 
punctual payment of his debts as the best and most hon- 
orable mode of conducting his business. 



Uprightness in Business. 507 

The truth of the good old maxim, that " Honesty is 
the best policy," is upheld by the daily experience of 
life, uprightness and integrity being found as successful 
in business as in every thing else. As Hugh Miller's 
worthy uncle used to advise him, " In all your dealings 
give your neighbor the cast of the bauk — ' good meas- 
ure, heaped up, and running over' — and }-ou will not 
lose by it in the end." A well-known brewer of beer 
attributed his success to the liberality with which he 
used his malt. Going up to the vat and tasting it, he 
would say, " Still rather poor, my lads; give it another 
cast of the malt." The brewer put his character into 
his beer, and it proved generous accordingly, obtaining 
a reputation in England, India, and the colonies, which 
laid the foundation of a large fortune. Integrity of 
word and deed ought to be the very corner-stone of all 
business transactions. To the tradesman, the merchant, 
and manufacturer, it should be what honor is to the 
soldier, and charity to the Christian. In the humblest 
calling there will always be found scope, for the exer- 
cise of this uprightness of character. Hugh Miller 
speaks of the mason with whom he served his appren- 
ticeship, as one who u put his conscience into every 
stone that he laid," So the true mechanic will pride 
himself upon the thoroughness and solidity of his work, 
and the high-minded contractor upon the honesty of 
performance of his contract in every particular. The 
upright manufacturer will find not only honor and 
reputation, but substantial success, in the genuineness 



508 Uprightness in Business. 

of the article which he produces, and the merchant in 
the honesty of what he sells, and that it really is what 
it seems to be. Baron Dupin, speaking of the general 
probity of Englishmen, which he held to be a principal 
cause of their success, observed, "We may succeed for 
a time by fraud, by surprise, by violence; but we can 
succeed permanently only by means directly opposite. 
It is not alone the courage, the intelligence, the activity, 
of the merchant and manufacturer which maintain the 
superiority of their productions and the character of 
their country; it is far more their wisdom, their econo- 
my, and, above all, their probity. If ever in the British 
Islands the useful citizen should lose these virtues, we 
may be sure that, for England, as for ever)' other 
country, the vessels of a degenerate commerce, repulsed 
from every shore, would speedily disappear from those 
seas whose surface they now cover with the treasures 
of the universe, bartered for the treasures of the industry 
of the three kingdoms. 11 

It must be admitted, that trade tries character per- 
haps more severely than any other pursuit in life. It 
puts to the severest tests honesty, self-denial, justice, and 
truthfulness; and men of business who pass through 
such trials unsustained are perhaps worthy of as great 
honor as soldiers who prove their courage amidst the 
fire and perils of battle. And, to the credit of the mul- 
titudes of men engaged in the various departments of 
trade, we think it must be admitted that on the whole 
they pass through their trials nobly. If we reflect but 



Business Confidence. 509 

for a moment on the vast amount of wealth daily in- 
trusted even to the subordinate persons, who them- 
selves probably earn but a bare competency — the loose 
cash which is constantly passing through the hands of 
shopmen, agents, brokers, and clerks in banking-houses 
— and note how comparatively few are the breaches of 
trust which occur amidst all this temptation, it will 
probably be admitted that this steady daily honesty 
of conduct is most honorable to human nature, if it do 
not even tempt us to be proud of it. The same trust 
and confidence reposed by men of business in each 
other, as implied by the system of credit, which is 
mainly based upon the principal of honor, would be 
surprising if it were not so much a matter of ordinary 
practice in business transactions. Dr. Chalmers has 
well said that the implicit trust with which merchants 
are accustomed to confide in distant agents, separated 
from them perhaps by half the globe — often consigning 
vast wealth to persons recommended only by their 
character, whom perhaps they have never seen — is 
probably the finest act of homage which men can render 
to one another. 

Although common honesty is still happily in the as- 
cendant among common people, and the general business 
community of England is still sound at heart, putting 
their honest character into their respective callings, 
there are unhappily, as there have been in all times, but 
too many instances of flagrant dishonesty and fraud, 
exhibited by the unscrupulous, the over speculative, 



510 Dishonest Gains. 

and the intensely selfish, in their haste to be rich. 
There are tradesmen who adulterate, contractors who 
" scamp," manufacturers who give us shoddy instead 
of wool, " dressing " instead of cotton, cast-iron tools 
instead of steel, needles without eyes, razors made only 
" to sell," and swindled fabrics in many shapes. But 
these we must hold to be the exceptional cases of low- 
minded and grasping men, who, though they may gain 
wealth, which they probably can not enjoy, will never 
gain an honest character, nor secure that without which 
wealth is nothing — a heart at peace. The rogue 
cozened not me, but his own conscience, said Bishop 
Latimer of a cutler who made him pay twopence for a 
knife not worth a penny. Money earned by screwing, 
cheating, and overreaching, may for a time dazzle the 
eyes of the unthinking; but the bubbles blown by un- 
scrupulous rogues, when full-blown, usually glitter only 
to burst. The Sadliers, Dean Pauls, and Redpaths, for 
the most part, come to a sad end even in this world; 
and though the successful swindles of others may not 
be "found out," and the gains of their roguery may 
remain with them, it will be as a curse and not as a 
blessing. 

It is possible that the scrupulously honest man may 
not grow rich so fast as the unscrupulous and dishonest 
one; but the success will be of a truer kind, earned 
without fraud or injustice. And even though a man 
should for a time be unsuccessful, still he must be hon- 
est; better lose all and save character. For character 



Dishonest Gains. 



511 



is itself a fortune; and if the high-principled man will 
but hold on his way courageously, success will surely 
come, nor will the highest reward of all be withheld 
from him. Wordsworth well described the " Happy 
Warrior," as he 

' Who comprehends his trust, and to the same 
Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim ; 
And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait 
For wealth, or honor, or for worldly state ; 
Whom they must follow, on whose head must fall, 
Like showers of manna, if they come at all." 




WWwv 



CHAPTER XL. 

MONEY ITS USE AND ABUSE. 

The Right Use of Money a Test of Wisdom.— The Virtue of Self-denial.— 
Self-imposed Taxes. — Economy Necessary to Independence. — Helplessness 
of the Improvident. — Frugality an Important Public Question. — The 
Bondage of the Improvident. — Independence Attainable by Working Men. 
— Living within the Means. — Bacon's Maxim. — Running into Debt. — 
Haydon's Debts. — Dr. Johnson on Debt. — The Duke of Wellington on 
Debt. — Washington. 

" Not for to hide it in a hedge. 
Nor for a train attendant, 
But for the glorious privilege 
Of being independent." — Burns. 

Ki TOW a man uses money — makes it, saves it, and 
spends it — is perhaps one of the best tests of prac- 
tical wisdom. Although money ought by no means to 
be regarded as a chief end of man's life, neither is it a 
trifling matter, to be held in philosophic contempt, rep- 
senting, as it does to so large an extent, the means of 
physical comfort and social well-being. Indeed, some 
of the finest qualities of human nature are intimately 
related to the right use of money; such as generosity, 
honesty, justice, and self-sacrifice; as well as the prac- 
tical virtues of economy and providence. On the other 
hand, there are their counterparts of avarice, fraud, 
injustice, and selfishness, as displayed by the inordinate 

Si 2 



Self-Denial 513 

lovers of gain; and the vices of thriftlessness, extrava- 
gance, and improvidence, on the part of those who mis- 
use and abuse the means intrusted to them. " So that," 
as is wisely observed by Henry Taylor in his thought- 
ful i Notes from Life,' " a right measure and manner in 
getting, saving, spending, giving, taking, lending, bor- 
rowing, and bequeathing, would almost argue a perfect 
man." 

Comfort in worldly circumstances is a condition 
which every man is justified in striving to attain by all 
worthy means. It secures that physical satisfaction, 
which is necessary for the culture of the better part of 
his nature; and enables him to provide for those of his 
own household, without which, says the apostle, a man 
is " worse than an infidel." Nor ought the duty to be 
any the less pleasing to us, that the respect which our 
fellow-men entertain for us in no slight degree depends 
upon the manner in which we exercise the opportuni- 
ties which present themselves for our honorable ad- 
vancement in life. The very effort required to be made 
to succeed in life with this object, is of itself an educa- 
tion; stimulating a man's sense of self-respect, bringing 
out his practical qualities, and disciplining him in the 
exercise of patience, perseverance, and such like virtues. 
The provident and careful man must necessarily be a 
thoughtful man, for he lives not merely for the present, 
but with provident forecast makes arrangements for the 
future. He must also be a temperate man, and exercise 
the virtue of self-denial, than which nothing is so much 
33 



514 Self- Denial, 

calculated to give strength to the character. John 
Sterling says truly, that " the worst education which 
teaches self-denial, is better than the best which teaches 
every thing else, and not that. 1 ' The Romans rightly 
employed the same word (virtus) to designate courage^ 
which is in a physical sense what the other is in a mor- 
al; the highest virtue of all being victory over our* 
selves. 

Hence the lesson of self-denial — the sacrificing of a 
present gratification for a future good — is one of the 
last that is learnt. Those classes which work the hard- 
est might naturally be expected to value the most the 
money which they earn. Yet the readiness with which 
so many are accustomed to eat up and drink up their 
earnings as they go, renders them to a great extent 
helpless and dependent upon the frugal. There are 
large numbers of persons among us who, though enjoy- 
ing sufficient means of comfort and independence, are 
often found to be barely a day's march ahead of actual 
want when a time of pressure occurs ; and hence a great 
cause of social helplessness and suffering. On one oc- 
casion a deputation waited on Lord John Russell, re- 
specting the taxation levied on the working classes of 
the country, when the noble lord took the opportunity 
of remarking, " You may rely upon it that the Govern- 
ment of this country durst not tax the working classes 
to any thing like the extent to which they tax them- 
selves in their expenditure upon intoxicating drinks 
alone!" Of all great public questions, there is perhaps 



Prudence. 515 

none more important than this — no great work of re- 
form calling more loudly for laborers. But it must be 
admitted that " self-denial and self-help" would make a 
poor rallying-cry for the hustings; and it is to be fear- 
ed that the patriotism of this day has but little regard 
for such common things as individual economy and 
providence, although it is by the practice of such vir- 
tues only that the genuine independence of the indus- 
trial classes is to be secured. " Prudence, frugality, 
and good management," said Samuel Drew, the philo- 
sophical shoemaker, " are excellent artists for mending 
bad times : they occupy but little room in any dwelling, 
but would furnish a more effectual remedy for the evils 
of life than any Reform Bill that ever passed the Houses 
of Parliament " Socrates said, " Let him that would 
move the world move first himself." Or as the old 
rhyme runs — 

" If every one would see 
To his own reformation, 
How very easily 
You might reform a nation." 

It is, however, generally felt to be a far easier thing to 
reform the Church and the State than to reform the 
least of our own bad habits; and in such matters it is 
usually found more agreeable to our tastes, as it cer- 
tainly is the common practice, to begin with our neigh- 
bors rather than with ourselves. 

Any class of men that lives from hand to mouth will 
ever be an inferior class. They will necessarily remain 



516 The Use of Money. 

impotent and helpless, hanging on to the skirts of socie- 
ty, the sport of times and seasons. Having no respect 
for themselves, they will fail in securing the respect of 
others. In commercial crises, such men must inevita- 
bly go to the wall. Wanting that husbanded power 
which a store of savings, no matter how small, invaria- 
bly gives them, they will be at every man's mercy, and, 
if possessed of right feelings, they can not but regard 
with fear and trembling the future possible fate of their 
wives and children. " The world," once said Mr. Cob- 
den to the working men of Huddersfield, " has always 
been divided into two classes — those who have saved, 
and those who have spent — the thrifty and the extrava- 
gant. The building of all the houses, the mills, the 
bridges, and the ships, and the accomplishment of all 
other great works which have rendered man civilized 
and happy, has been done by the savers, the thrifty; 
and those who have wasted their resources have always 
been their slaves. It has been the law of nature and 
of Providence that this should be so; and I were an 
impostor if I promised any class that they would ad- 
vance themselves if they were improvident, thoughtless, 
and idle." 

Equally sound was the advice given by Mr. Bright 
to an assembly of working men at Rochdale, in 1847, 
when, after expressing his belief that, " so far as hon- 
esty was concerned, it was to be found in pretty equal- 
amount among all classes," he used the following words : 
" There is only one way that is safe for any man, or 



Money — Its Use and Abuse. 517 

any number of men, by which they can maintain their 
present position if it be a good one, or raise themselves 
above it if it be a bad one — that is, by the practice of 
the virtues of industry, frugality, temperance, and hon- 
esty. There is no ro} T al road by which men can raise 
themselves from a position which they feel to be un- 
comfortable and unsatisfactory, as regards their men- 
tal or physical condition, except by the practice of 
those virtues by which they find numbers amongst 
them are continually advancing and bettering them- 
selves." 

There is no reason why the condition of the average 
workman should not be a useful, honorable, respectable, 
and happ) r one. The whole body of the working 
classes might (with few exceptfons) be as frugal, virtu- 
ous, well-informed, and well-conditioned as many in- 
dividuals of the same class have already made them- 
selves. What some men are, all without difficulty 
might be. Employ the same means, and the same 
results will follow. That there should be a class of men 
who live by their daily labor in every state is the ordi- 
nance of God, and doubtless is a wise and righteous one ; 
but that this class should be otherwise than frugal, 
contented, intelligent, and happy, is not the design 
of Providence, but springs solely from the weakness, 
self indulgent, and perverseness of man himself. The 
healthy spirit of self-help created amongst working peo- 
ple would more than any other measure serve to raise 
them as a class, and this, not by pulling down others, 



518 Money — Its Use and Abuse. 

but by levelling them up to a higher and still advanc- 
ing standard of religion, intelligence, and virtue. " All 
moral philosophy," says Montaigue, " is as applicable 
to a common and private life as to the most splendid. 
Every man carries the entire form of the human condi- 
tion with him." 

When a man casts his glance forward, he will find 
that the three chief temporal contingencies tor which 
he has to provide are want of employment, sickness, 
and death. The two first he may escape, but the last 
is inevitable. It is, however, the duty of the prudent 
man so to live, and so to arrange, that the pressure of 
suffering, in event of either contingency occurring, shall 
be mitigated to as great an extent as possible, not only 
to himself, but also to those who are dependent upon 
him for their comfort and subsistence. Viewed in this 
light, the honest earning and the frugal use of money 
are of the greatest importance. Rightly earned, it is 
the representative of patient industry and untiring 
effort, of temptation resisted and hope rewarded; and 
rightly used, it affords indications of prudence, fore- 
thought and self-denial — the true basis of manly char- 
acter. Though money represents a crowd of objects 
without any real worth or utility, it also represents 
many things of great value; not only food, clothing 
and household satisfaction, but personal self-respect 
and independence. Thus a store of savings is to the 
working man as a barricade against want, it secures 
him a footing, and enables him to wait, it may be in 



Necessity of Economy. 519 

cheerfulness and hope, until better days come round. 
The very endeavor to gain a firmer position in the 
world has a certain dignity in it, and tends to make a 
man stronger and better. At all events, it gives him 
greater freedom of action, and enables him to husband 
his strength for future effort. 

But the man who is always hovering on the verge of 
want is in a state not far removed from that of slavery. 
He is in no sense his own master, bu^t is in constant peril 
of falling under the bondage of others, and accepting 
the terms which they dictate to him. He can not help 
being in a measure servile, for he dares not look the 
world boldly in the face; and in adverse times he must 
look either to alms or the poor's rates. If work fails 
him altogether, he has not the means of moving to 
another field of employment; he is fixed to his parish 
like a limpet to its rock, and can neither migrate nor 
emigrate. 

To secure independence, the practice of simple econ- 
omy is all that is necessary. Economy requires neither 
superior courage nor eminent virtue; it is satisfied with 
ordinary energy, and the capacit} 7 of average minds. 
-Economy, at bottom, is but the spirit of order applied 
in the administration of domestic affairs : it means man- 
agement, regularity, prudence, and the avoidance of 
waste. The spirit of economy was expressed by our 
Divine Master in the words, " Gather up the fragments 
that remain, so that nothing may be lost." His omnipo- 
tence did not disdain the small things of life; and even 



520 Necessity of Economy. 

while revealing His infinite power to the multitude, he 
taught the pregnant lesson of carefulness, of which all 
stand so much in need. 

Economy also means the power of resisting present 
gratification for the purpose of securing a future good, 
and in this light it represents the ascendency of reason 
over the animal instincts. It is altogether different 
from penuriousness : for it is economy that can always 
best afford to be generous. It does not make money 
an idol but regards it as a useful agent. As Dean 
Swift observes, " we must carry money in the head, not 
in the heart.'" Economy may be styled the daughter 
of Prudence, the sister of Temperance, and the mother 
of Liberty. It is evidently conservative — conservative 
of character, of domestic happiness, and social well- 
being. It is, in short, the exhibition of self-help in one 
of its best forms. 

Francis Horner's father gave him this advice on en- 
tering life: — "Whilst I wish you to be comfortable in 
every respect, I can not too strongl} 7 inculcate economy. 
It is a necessary virtue to all; and however the shallow 
part of mankind may dispise it, it certainly leads to in- 
dependence, which is a grand object to every man of a 
high spirit." Burn's lines, quoted at the head of this 
chapter, contain the right idea; but unhappily his 
strain of song was higher than his practice; his ideal 
better than his habit. When laid on his death-bed 
he wrote to a friend, u Alas! Clarke, I begin to feel 
the worst. Burns's poor widow, and a half a dozen of 




AN EXAMPLE DF THRIFT, 



EXO RATED FOR HOMES. 



Gettings and Savings. 521 

his dear little ones helpless orphans; — there I am weak 
as a woman's tear. Enough of this; — 'tis half my 
disease. 

Every man ought so to contrive as to live within his. 
means. This practice is of the very essence of honesty. 
For if a man do not manage honestly to live within 
his own means, he must necessarily be living dishonest- 
ly upon the means of somebody else. Those who are 
careless about personal expenditure, and consider mere- 
ly their own gratification, without regard for the com- 
fort of others, generally find out the real uses of money 
when it is too late. Though by nature generous, these 
thriftless persons are often driven in the end to do very 
shabby things. They waste their money as they do their 
time; draw bills upon the future; anticipate their earn- 
ings; and are thus under the necessity of dragging after 
them a load of debts and obligations which seriously 
affect their action as free and independent men. 

It was a maxim of Lord Bacon, that when it was. 
necessary to economize, it was better to look after petty 
savings than to descend to petty gettings. The loose 
cash which many persons throw away uselessly, and 
worse, would often form a basis of fortune and inde- 
pendence for life. These wasters are their own worst 
enemies, though generally found amongst the ranks of 
those who rail at the injustice of " the world. 1 ' But if 
a man will not be his own friend, how can he expect 
that others will? Orderly men of moderate means 
have always something left in their pockets to help 



£22 Danger of Borrowing. 

others; whereas your prodigal and careless fellows 
who spend all never find an opportunity for helping 
any body. It is poor economy, however, to be a scrub. 
Narrow-mindedness in living and in dealing is generally 
short-sighted, and leads to failure. The penny soul, 
it is said, never came to twopence. Generosity and 
liberality, like honesty, prove the best policy after all. 
Though Jenkinson, in the " Vicar of Wakefield," 
cheated his kind-hearted neighbor Flamborough in one 
way or another every year, u Flamborough," said he, 
"has been regularly growing in riches, while I have 
come to poverty and a jail." And practical life abounds 
in cases of brilliant results from a course of generous 
and honest policy. 

The proverb says that " an empty bag can not stand 
upright;" neither can a man who is in debt. It is also 
difficult for a man who is in debt to be truthful; hence 
it is said that lying rides on debt's back. The debtor 
has to frame excuses to his creditor for postponing pay- 
ment of the money he owes him, and probably also to 
contrive falsehoods. It is easy enough for a man who 
will exercise a healthy resolution, to avoid incurring 
the first obligation; but the facility with which that 
has been incurred often becomes a temptation co a sec- 
ond ; and very soon the unfortunate borrower becomes 
so entangled that no late exertion of industry can set 
him free. The first step in debt is like the first step 
in falsehood; almost involving the necessity of proceed- 
ing in the same course, debt following debt as lie 



Danger of Borrowing. 523 

follows lie. Haydon, the painter, dated his decline from 
the day on which he first borrowed money. He real- 
ized the truth of the proverb, " Who goes a-borrowing, 
goes a-sorrowing." The significant entry in his diary 
is: " Here began debt and obligation out of which I 
have never been and never shall be extricated as long 
as I live." His autobiography shows but too painfully 
how embarrassment in money matters produces poig- 
nant distress of mind, utter incapacity for work, and 
constantly recurring humilitations. The written advice 
which he gave to a youth when entering the navy was 
as follows: "Never purchase any enjoyment if it can 
not be procured without borrowing of others. Never 
borrow money; it is degrading. I do not say never 
lend, but never lend if by lending you render yourself 
unable to pay what you owe; but under any cir- 
cumstances never borrow." Fichte, the poor student, 
refused to accept even presents from his still poorer 
parents. 

Dr. Johnson held that early debt is ruin. His words 
on the subject are weighty," and worthy of being held 
in remembrance. " Do not," said he, " accustom your- 
self to consider debt only as an inconvenience; you 
will find it a calamity. Poverty takes away so many 
means of doing good, and produces so much inability 
to resist evil, both natural and moral, that it is by all 
virtuous means to be avoided. . . Let it be your first 
care ; then, not to be in any man's debt. Resolve not to 
he poor; whatever you have, spend less* Poverty is a 



524 Avoid Debt. 

great enemy to human happiness; it certainly destroys 
liberty, and it makes some virtues impracticable and 
others extremely difficult. Frugality is not only the 
basis of quiet, but of benificence. No man can help 
others that wants help himself; we must have enough 
before we have to spare." 

It is the bounden duty of every man to look his af- 
fairs in the face, and to keep an account of his incom- 
ings and outgoings in money matters. The exercise of 
a little simple arithmetic in this wa}^ will be found of 
great value. Prudence requires that we shall pitch 
our scale of living a degree below our means, rather 
than up to them. But this can only be done by carry- 
ing out faithfully a plan of living by which both ends 
may be made to meet. John Locke strongly advised 
this course: " Nothing," said he, " likelier to keep a 
man within compass than having constantly before his 
eyes the state of his affairs in a regular course of ac- 
count." The Duke of Wellington kept an accurate 
detailed account of all the moneys received and expend- 
ed by him. " I make a point," said he to Mr. Gleig, 
" of paying my own bills, and I advise every one to do 
the same; formerly I used to trust a confidential ser- 
vant to pay them, but I was cured of that folly by re- 
ceiving one morning; to my great surprise, duns of a 
year or two's standing. The fellow had speculated 
with my money, and left my bills unpaid." Talking 
of debt, his remark was, " It makes a slave of a man. 
I have often known what it was to be in want of 



Avoid Debt. 



525 



money, but I never got into debt." Washington was 
as particular as Wellington was, in matters of business 
detail; and it is a remarkable fact, that he did not dis- 
dain to scrutinize the smallest outgoings of his house- 
hold — determined as he was to live honestly within his 
means — even when holding the high office of President 
of the American Union. 




CHAPTER XLI. 

MONEY — ITS USE AND ABUSE EXAMPLES. 



Earl St. Vincent: his protested Bill. — Joseph Hume on living too high.— 
Ambition after Gentility. — Resistance to Temptation. — Hugh Miller's 
Case. — High Standard of Life necessary. — Proverbs on Money-making- 
and Thrift. 



" Neither a borrower nor a lender be: 
For loan oft loses both itself and friend; 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry."— Shakespeare. 

C\)dMIRAL Jervis, Earl St. Vincent, has told the 
^ story of his early struggles, and, amongst other 
things, of his determination to keep out of debt. "My 
father had a very large family," said he, " with limited 
means. He gave me twenty pounds at starting, and 
that was all he ever gave me. After I had been a con- 
siderable time at the station [at sea,] I drew for twenty 
more, but the bill came back protested. I was morti- 
fied at this rebuke, and made a promise, which I have 
ever kept, that I would never draw another bill without 
a certainty of its being paid. I immediately changed 
my mode of living, quitted my mess, lived alone, and 
took up the ship's allowance, which I found quite suf- 
ficient; washed and mended my own clothes; made a 
pair of trowsers out of the ticking of my bed; and hav- 

526 



Early Struggles of Jolin Jervis. 527 

ing by these means saved as much money as would re- 
deem my honor, I took up my bill, and from that time 
to this I have taken care to keep within my means."' 
Jervis for six years endured pinching privation, but pre- 
served his integrity, studied his profession with success, 
and gradually and steadily rose by merit and bravery 
to the highest rank. 

Mr. Hume hit the mark when he once stated in the 
House of Commons — though his worlds were followed 
by " laughter" — that the tone of living in England is 
altogether too high. Middle-class people are too apt 
to live up to their incomes, if not beyond them : affect- 
ing a degree of " style" which is most unhealthy in its 
effects upon society at large. There is an ambition to 
bring up boys as gentlemen, or rather " genteel " men, 
though the result frequently is only to make them 
gents, They acquire a taste for dress, style, luxuries,, 
and amusements, which can never form any solid foun- 
dation for manly or gentlemanly character; and the re- 
sult is, that we have a vast number of gingerbread 
young gentry thrown upon the world, who remind one 
of the abandoned hulls sometimes picked up at sea, with 
only a monkey on board. 

There is a dreadful ambition abroad for being " gen- 
teel." We keep up appearances, too often at the ex- 
pense of honesty; and, though we may not be rich, yet 
we must seem to be so. We must be "respectable," 
though only in the meanest sense — in mere vulgar out- 
ward show. We have not the courage to go patiently 



528 Living too High. 

onward in the condition of life in which it has pleased 
God to call us ; but must needs live in some fashionable 
state to which we ridiculously please to call ourselves, 
and to gratify the vanity of that unsubstantial genteel 
world of w r hich we form a part. There is a constant 
struggle and pressure for front seats in the social am- 
phitheatre; in the midst of which all noble self-denying 
resolve is trodden down, and many fine natures are in- 
evitably crushed to death. What waste, what misery, 
what bankruptcy, come from all this ambition to dazzle 
others with the glare of apparent worldly success, we 
need not describe. The mischievous results show them- 
selves in a thousand ways — in the rank frauds commit- 
ted by men who dare to be dishonest, but do not dare 
to seem poor; and in the desperate dashes at fortune, in 
which the pity is not so much for those who fail, as for 
the hundreds of innocent families who are so often in- 
volved in their ruin. 

The young man, as he passes through life, advances 
through a long line of tempters ranged on either side 
of him; and the inevitable effect of yielding to degra- 
dation in a greater or less degree. Contact with them 
tends insensibly to draw away from him some portion 
of the divine electric element with which his nature is 
charged ; and his only mode of resisting them is to utter 
and to act out his " No" manfully and resolutely. He 
must decide at once, not waiting to deliberate, and bal- 
ance reasons: for the youth, like " the woman who de- 
liberates, is lost." Many deliberate, without deciding; 



Living too High. 529 

but " not to resolve, is to resolve.' ' A perfect knowl- 
edge of the man is in the prayer, : ' Lead us not into 
temptation. 17 But temptation will come to try the 
young man's strength; and once yielded to, the power 
to resist grows weaker and weaker. Yield once, and 
a portion of virtue has gone. Resist manfully, and the 
first decision will give strength for life; repeated, it will 
become a habit. It is in the outworks of the habits 
formed in early life that the real strength of the de- 
fense must lie ; for it has been wisely ordained that the 
machinery of moral existence should be carried on prin- 
cipally through the medium of the habits, so as to save 
the wear and tear of the great principles within. It is 
good habits, which insinuate themselves into the thou- 
sand inconsiderable acts of life, that really constitute by 
far the greater part of man's moral conduct. 

Hugh Miller has told how, by an act of youthful de- 
cision, he saved himself from one of the strong tempta- 
tions so peculiar to a life of toil. When employed as a 
mason, it was usual for his fellow workmen to have an 
occasional treat of drink, and one day two glasses of 
whiskey fell to his share, which he swallowed. When 
he reached home, he found, on opening his favorite 
book — " Bacon's Essays " — that the letters danced be- 
fore his eyes, and that he could no longer master the 
sense. " The condition," he says, " into which I had 
brought myself was, I felt, one of degradation. I had 
sunk, by my own act, for the time, to a lower level of 
intelligence than that on which it was my privilege to 
34 



530 llesistance to Temptation. 

be placed; and though the state could have been no 
very favorable one lor forming a resolution, I in that 
hour determined that I should never again sacrifice my 
capacity of intellectual enjoyment to a drinking usage;, 
and, with God's help, I was enabled to hold by the de- 
termination." It is such decisions as this that often 
form the turning points in a man's life, and furnish the 
foundation of his future character. And this rock, on 
which Hugh Miller might have been wrecked, if he had 
not at the right moment put forth his moral strength 
to strike away from it, is one that youth and manhood 
alike need to be constantly on their guard against. It 
is about one of the worst and most deadly, as well as 
extravagant, temptations which lie in the way of youth. 
Sir Walter Scott used to say that u of all vices, drink- 
ing is the most incompatible with greatness." Not 
only so, but it is incompatible with economy, decency, 
health, and honest living. When a youth can not re- 
strain he must abstain. Dr. Johnson's case is the case 
of many. He said, referring to his own habits, " Sir, I 
can abstain; but I can't be moderate." 

But to wrestle vigorously and successfully with any 
vicious habit, we must not merely be satisfied with 
contending on the low ground of worldly prudence, 
though that is of use, but take stand upon a higher 
moral elevation. Mechanical aids, such as pledges, may 
be of service to some, but the great thing is to set up 
a high standard of thinking and acting, and endeavor 
to strengthen and purify the principles as well as to re- 



A High Standard. 531 

form the habits. For this purpose a youth must study 
himself, watch his steps, and compare his thoughts and 
acts with his rule. The more knowledge of himself 
he gains, the more humble will he be, and perhaps the 
less confident in his own strength. But the discipline 
will be always found most valuable which is required 
by resisting small present gratifications to secure a 
prospective greater and higher one. It is the noblest 
work in self-education — for 

" Real glory- 
Springs from the silent conquest of ourselves, 
And without that the conqueror is nought 
But the first slave." 

Many popular books have been written for the pur- 
pose of communicating to the public the grand secret 
of making money. But there is no secret whatever 
about it, as the proverbs of every nation abundantly 
testify. u Take care of the pennies and the pounds will 
take care of themselves." "Diligence is the mother 
of good luck." " No pains no gains." a No sweat no 
sweet." " Work and thou shalt have." " The world 
is his who has patience and industry." " Better go to 
bed supperless than rise in debt." Such are specimens 
of the proverbial philosophy, embodying the hoarded 
experience of many generations, as to the best means 
of thriving in the world. They were current in peo- 
ple's mouths long before books were invented; and 
like other popular proverbs they were the first codes 
of popular morals. Moreover they have stood the test 



532 Proverbs of Money -Making. 

of time, and the experience of ever}' day still bears wit- 
ness to their accuracy, force, and soundness. The Prov- 
erbs of Solomon are full of wisdom as to the force of 
industry, and the use and abuse of money: — " He that 
is slothful in work is brother to him that is a great 
waster." " Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her 
ways, and be wise." Poverty, says the preacher, shall 
come upon the idler, " as one that traveleth, and want 
as an armed man;" but of the industrious and upright, 
"the hand of the diligent maketh rich." "The drunk- 
ard and the glutton shall come to poverty; and drowsi- 
ness shall clothe a man with rags." " Seest thou a man 
diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings." 
But above all, "It is better to get wisdom than gold; 
for wisdom is better than rubies, and all the things that 
may be desired are not to be compared to it." 

Simple industry and thrift will go far towards mak- 
ing any person of ordinary working faculty compara- 
tively independent in his means. Even a working man 
may be so, provided he will carefully husband his re- 
sources, and watch the little outlets of useless expendi- 
ture. A penny is a very small matter, yet the comfort 
of thousands of families depends upon the proper spend- 
ing and saving of pennies. If a man allows the little 
pennies, the results of his hard work, to slip out of his 
fingers — some to the beer-shop, some this way and some 
that — he will find that his life is little raised above one 
of mere animal drudgery. On the other hand, if he 
take care of the pennies — putting some weekly into a 



Industry Honorable. 



533 



benefit society or an insurance fund, others into a sav- 
ing's bank, and confiding the rest to his wife to be care- 
fully laid out, with a view to the comfortable mainten- 
ance and education of his family — he will soon find that 
this attention to small matters will abundantly repay 
him, in increasing means, growing comfort at home, and 
a mind comparatively free from fears as to the future. 
And if a working man have high ambition and possess 
richness in spirit — a kind of wealth which far tran- 
scends all mere worldly possessions — he may not only 
help himself, but be a profitable helper of others in his 
path through life. 




CHAPTER XLII. 

ENERGY AND COURAGE. 

Energy Characteristic of the Teutonic Race. — The Foundations of Strength 
of Character. — Force of Purpose. — Concentration. — Courageous Work- 
ing. — Words of Hugh Miller and Fowell Buxton. — Power and Freedom 
of Will. — Words of Lamennais. — Suwarrow. — Napoleon and "Glory." — 
Wellington and "Duty." 

"In every, work that he began .... he did it with all his heart, and 
prospered."— 2 Chron. xxxi. 21. 

/TvHERE is a famous speech recorded of an old 
Norseman, thoroughly characteristic of the Teu- 
ton. u I believe neither in idols or demons," said he, 
" I put my sole trust in my own strength of body and 
soul." The ancient crest of a pickaxe with the motto 
of " Either I will find a way or make one," was an ex- 
pression of the same sturdy independence which to this 
day distinguishes the descendants of the Northmen. 
Indeed nothing could be more characteristic of the Scan- 
dinavian mythology, than that it had a god with a ham- 
mer. A man's character is seen in small matters; and 
from even so slight a test as the mode in which a man 
wields a hammer, his energy may in some measure be 
inferred. Thus an eminent Frenchman hit off in a sin- 
gle phrase the characteristic quality of the inhabitants 

534 



Force of Purpose. 535 

of a particular district, in which a friend of his proposed 
to settle and buy land. " Beware," said he, " of mak- 
ing a purchase there; I know the men of that depart- 
ment; the pupils who come from it to our veterinary 
school at Paris do not strike hard upon the anvil; they 
want energy ; and you will not get a satisfactory return 
on any capital you may invest there.' 1 A fine and just 
appreciation of character, indicating the thoughtful ob- 
server; and strikingly illustrative of the fact that it is 
the energy of the individual men that gives strength to 
a state, and confers a value even upon the very soil 
which they cultivate. As the French proverb has it: 
" Tant vaut Phomme, tant vaut sa terre." 

The cultivation of this quality is of the greatest im- 
portance; resolute determination in the pursuit of wor- 
th)' objects being the foundation of all true greatness 
of character. Energy enables a man to force his way 
through irksome drudgery and dry details, and carries 
him onward and upward in every station in life. It ac- 
complishes more than genius, with not one-half the dis- 
appointment and peril. It is not eminent talent that is 
required to insure success in any pursuit, so much as 
purpose — not merely the power to achieve, but the will 
to labor energetically and perseveringly. Hence ener- 
gy of will may be defined to be the very central power 
of character in a man — in a word, it is the Man himself. 
It gives impulse to his every action, and soul to every 
effort. True hope is based on it — and it is hope that 
gives the real perfume to life. There is a fine heraldic 



536 Force of Purpose. 

motto on a broken helmet in Battle Abbey, " L'espoir 
est ma force, 1 ' which might be the motto of every man's 
life. " Woe unto him that is faint-hearted, " says the 
son of Sirach. There is, indeed, no blessing equal to 
the possession of a stout heart. Even if a man fail in 
his efforts, it will be a satisfaction to him to enjoy the 
consciousness of having done his best. In humble life 
nothing can be more cheering and beautiful than to see 
a man combating suffering by patience, triumphing in 
his integrity, and who, when his feet are bleeding and 
his limbs failing him, still walks upon his courage. 

Mere wishes and desires but engender a sort of green 
sickness in young minds, unless they are promptly em- 
bodied in act and deed. It will not avail merely to 
wait, as so many do, " until Blucher comes up," but 
they must struggle on and persevere in the mean time,, 
as Wellington did. The good purpose once formed 
must be carried out with alacrity and without swerv- 
ing. In most conditions of life, drudgery and toil are 
to be cheerfully endured as the best and most whole- 
some discipline. " In life, " said Ary Scheffer, " noth- 
ing bears fruit except by labor of mind or body. To. 
strive and still strive — such is life; and in this respect 
mine is fulfilled; but I dare to say, with just pride, that 
nothing has ever shaken my courage. With a strong 
soul, and a noble aim, one can do what one wills, mor- 
ally speaking." 

Hugh Miller said the only school in which he was 
properly taught was " that world-wide school in which 



Courageous Working. 537 

toil and hardship are the severe but noble teacher." 
He who allows his application to falter, or shirks his. 
work on frivolous pretexts, is on the sure road to ulti 
mate failure. Let any task be undertaken as a thing 
not possible to be evaded, and it will soon come to be 
performed with alacrity and cheerfulness, Charles IX. 
of Sweden was a firm believer in the power of will,, 
even in youth. Laying his hand on the head of his 
youngest son when engaged on a difficult task, he ex- 
claimed, " He shall do it! he shall do it!" The habit 
of application becomes easy in time, like every other 
habit. Thus persons with comparatively moderate 
powers will accomplish much, if they apply themselves 
wholly and indefatigably to one thing at a time. Fow- 
ell Buxton placed his confidence in ordinary means 
and extraordinary application, realizing the scriptural 
injunction, " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it 
with all thy might; 1 ' and he attributed his own success 
in life to his practice of " being a whole man to one 
thing at a time." 

Nothing that is of real worth can be achieved with- 
out courageous working. Man owes his growth chiefly 
to that active striving of the will, that encounter with 
difficulty which we call effort; and it is astonishing to 
find how often results apparently impracticable are 
thus made possible. An intense anticipation itself 
transforms possibility into reality; our desires being 
often but the precursors of the things which we are 
capable of performing. On the contrary, the timid and 



.538 Determined Effort. 

hesitating find every thing impossible, chiefly because it 
seems so. It is related of a young French officer, that 
he used to walk about his apartment exclaiming, " I will 
be Marshal of France and a great general." His ardent 
desire was the presentiment of his success; for the 
young officer did become a distinguished commander, 
and he died a Marshal of France. 

Mr. Walker, author of the " Original," had so great 
a faith in the power of will, that he says on one occasion 
he determined to be well, and he was so. This may 
answer once; but, though safer to follow than many 
prescriptions, it will not always succeed. The power of 
mind over body is no doubt great, but it may be strained 
until the physical power breaks down altogether. It is 
related of Muley Moluc, the Moorish leader, that, when 
lying ill, almost worn out by an incurable disease, a 
battle took place between his troops and the Portuguese; 
when starting from his litter at the great crisis of the 
fight, he rallied his army, led them to victory, and in- 
stantly afterwards sank exhausted and expired. 

It is will — force of purpose — that enables a man to 
do or be whatever he sets his mind on being or doing. 
A holy man was accustomed to say, " Whatever you 
wish, that you are: for such is the force of our will, 
joined to the Divine, that whatever we wish to be, 
seriously, and with a true intention, that we become. 
No one ardently wishes to be submissive, patient, mod- 
<est, or liberal, who does not become what he wishes." 
The story is told of a working carpenter, who was ob- 



The Power of Will. 539 

served one day planing a magistrate's bench which he 
was repairing, with more than usual carefulness; and 
when asked the reason, he replied, " Because I wish to 
make it easy against the time when I come to sit upon 
it myself." And singularly enough, the man actually 
lived to sit upon that very bench as a magistrate. 

Whatever theoretical conclusions logicians may have 
formed as to the freedom of the will, each individual 
feels that practically he is free to choose between good 
and evil— that he is not as a mere straw thrown upon 
the water to mark the direction of the current, but 
that he has within him the power of a strong swimmer 
and is capable of striking out for himself, of buffeting 
with the waves, and directing to a great extent his own 
independent course. There is no absolute constraint 
upon our volitions, and we feel and know that we are 
not bound, as by a spell, with reference to our actions. 
It would paralyze all desire of excellence were we to 
think otherwise. The entire business and conduct of 
life with its domestic rules, its social arrangements ; and 
its public institutions, proceed upon the practical con- 
viction that the will is free. Without this where would 
be responsibility? — and what the advantage of teaching, 
advising, preaching, reproof, and correction? What 
were the use of laws, were it not the universal belief, 
as it is the universal fact, that men obey them or not, 
very much as the}' individually determine! In every 
moment of our life, conscience is proclaiming that our 
will is free. It is the" only thing that is wholly ours, 



540 Fowell Buxton. 

and it rests solely with ourselves individually, whether 
we give it the right or the wrong direction. Our habits 
or our temptations or not our masters, but we of them. 
Even in yielding, conscience tells us we might resist; 
and that were we determined to master them, there 
would not be required for that purpose a stronger 
resolution than we know ourselves to be capable of 
exercising 

"You are now at the age," said Lamennais once, 
addressing a gay youth, " at which a decision must be 
formed by you; a little later, and you may have to 
groan within the tomb which you yourself have dug, 
without the power of rolling away the stone. That 
which the easiest becomes a habit in us is the will. 
Learn, then, to will strongly and decisively; thus fix 
your floating life, and leave it no longer to be carried 
hither and thither, like a withered leaf, by every wind 
that blows." 

Buxton held the conviction that a young man might 
be very much what he pleased, provided he formed a 
strong resolution and held to it. Writing to one of his 
sons, he said to him, "You are now at that period of 
life, in which you must make a turn to the right or the 
left. You must now give proofs of principle, determi- 
nation, and strength of mind; or you must sink into 
idleness, and acquire the habits and character of a des- 
ultory, ineffective young man; and if once you fall to 
that point, you will find it no easy matter to rise again. 
I am sure that a young man may be very much what 









•341 

he oleases. In mv own case it was so. . . Much :: 
my happiness, and all my prosperity in life, have result- 
ed from the change I made at your age. If you sen : u sly 
:o be energetic and industrious, depend upon it 
that you will for your whole life have reason to : -e J : ice 
that you were wise enough tc form and to act upon 
that determinati: As will 1 considered ithout 

\rd to direction, is simple constancy, firmness, 
perseverance it will be obvious that every thing 
depends upon right direction and motives. Dire 
towards the enjoyment of the senses, the strong will 
may be a demon, and the intellect merely its debased 
slave; but directed towards good, the strong will i 
king, and the intellect the minis ter : man's highest 
well-being. 

"Where the there is away," is an :i 

true saying. He who resolves upon loing a thing. 
that very resolution often scales the carriers t: it, and 
secures its achievement. To think we are able, is 
almcst t: be so — to determine upon attainment is fre- 
quently attainment itself. Thus T earnest resolution has 

ten seemed to have about it almost : savor :f omnip- 
otence. The strength rf Suwarrow's character If. 
his power of willing, and. likr most i e-olute persons, 
he preached it up as a system. "You can only half 
will," 1 he would say to people tiled. Like Riche- 

lieu and Napoie he would have the word impossi 
ble " banished from the dictionary. b * I don't know." 
M I can't," and "impossible,* 1 were words which he 



542 .Napoleon. 

tested above all others. " Learn! Do! Try!" he would 
exclaim. His biographer has said of him, that he fur- 
nished a remarkable illustration of what may be effected 
by the energetic development and exercise of faculties, 
the germs of which at least are in every human heart. 

One of Napoleon's favorite maxims was, " The truest 
wisdom is a resolute determination." His life, beyond 
most others, vividly showed what a powerful and un- 
scrupulous will could accomplish. He threw his whole 
force of body and mind direct upon his work. Imbe- 
cile rulers and the nations they governed went down 
before him in succession. He was told that the Alps 
stood in the way of his armies — u There shall be no 
Alps," he said, and the road across the Simplon was 
constructed, through a district formerly almost inac- 
cessible. " Impossible, 1 ' said he, " is a word only to be 
found in the dictionary of fools." He was a man who 
toiled terribly; sometimes employing and exhausting 
four secretaries at a time. He spared no one, not even 
himself. His influence inspired other men, and put a 
new life into them. " I made my generals out of mud," 
he said. But all was of no avail; for Napoleon's in- 
tense selfishness was his ruin, and the ruin of France, 
which he left a prey to anarchy. His life taught the 
lesson that power, however energetically wielded, with- 
out benificence, is fatal to its possessor and its subjects; 
and that knowledge, or knowingness, without goodness, 
is but the incarnate principal of evil. 

Our own Wellington was a far greater man. Not 






Wellington. 543 

less resolute, firm, and persistent, but more self-denying, 
conscientious, and truly patriotic. Napoleon's aim 
was "Glory;" Wellington's watchword, like Nelson's 
was "Duty." The former word, it is said, does not 
once occur in his dispatches; the latter often, but never 
accompanied by any high-sounding professions. The 
greatest difficulties could neither embarrass nor intimi- 
date Wellington; his energy invariably rising in pro- 
portion to the obstacles to be surmounted. The pa- 
tience, the firmness, the resolution, with which he bore 
through the maddening vexations and gigantic difficul- 
ties of the Peninsular campaigns, is, perhaps, one of the 
sublimest things to be found in history. In Spain, 
Wellington not only exhibited the genius of the general, 
but the comprehensive wisdom of the statesman. 
Though his natural temper was irritable in the ex- 
treme, his high sense of duty enabled him to restrain 
it; and to those about him his patience seemed abso- 
lutely inexhaustible. His great character stands un- 
tarnished by ambition, by avarice, or any low passion. 
Though a man of powerful individuality, he yet dis- 
played a great variety of endowment. The equal of 
Napoleon in generalship, he was as prompt, vigorous, 
and daring as Clive; as wise a statesman as Cromwell: 
and as pure and high-minded as Washington. 



CHAPTER XLIII 



SELF-CULTURE FACILITIES AND DIFFICULTIES. 

Sir Walter Scott on Self-culture. — Active Employment salutary. — Import- 
ance of physical Health. — Early Labor. — Training in Use of Tools. — 
Healthiness of Great Men. — Labor conquers all Things. — Well-directed 
Labor. — Opinions of Sir Joshua Reynolds and Powell Buxton. — Thorough- 
ness, Accuracy, Decision, and Promptitude. — The Virtue of patient Lab- 
or. — The right Use of Knowledge. — Books may impart learning, but well- 
applied Knowledge and Experience only exhibit Wisdom. — The Magna 
Charta Men. — Brindley Stephenson, Hunter, and others, not book-learned 
yet great — Self-respect. — The Wisdom and Strength acquired through 
Failure. — The Uses of Difficulty and Adversity. — Struggles with Diffi- 
culties. 

" Every person has two educations, one which he receives from others, 
and one, more important, which he gives to himself." — Gibbon. 

• /T\HE best part of every man's education, said Sir 
-*- Walter Scott, H is that which he gives to him- 
self." The late Sir Benjamin Brodie delighted to re- 
member this saying, and he used to congratulate him- 
self on the fact that professionally he was self-taught. 
But this is necessarily the case with all men who have 
acquired distinction in letters, science, or art. The edu- 
cation received at school or college is but a beginning, 
and is valuable mainly inasmuch as it trains the mind 
and habituates it to continuous application and study. 
That which is put into us by others is always far less 

544 



Importance of Self -Culture* o±>) 

ours than that which we acquire by our own diligent 
and persevering effort. Knowledge conquered by labor 
becomes a possession — a property entirely our own. 
A greater vividness and permanency of impression is 
secured; and facts thus acquired become registered in 
the mind in a way that mere imparted information can 
never effect. This kind of self-culture also calls forth 
power and cultivates strength. The solution of one 
problem helps the mastery of another; and thus knowl- 
edge is carried into faculty. Our own active effort is 
the essential thing; and no facilities, no books, no teach- 
ers, no amount of lessons learnt by rote will enable us 
to dispense with it. 

The best teachers have been the readiest to recognize 
the importance of self-culture, and of stimulating the 
student to acquire knowledge by the active exercise of 
his own faculties. They have relied more upon train- 
ing than upon telling, and sought to make their pupils 
themselves active parties to the work in which they 
were engaged; thus making teaching something far 
higher than the mere passive reception of the scraps and 
details of knowledge. 

From the numerous instances already cited of men 
of humble station who have risen to distinction in sci- 
ence and literature, it will be obvious that labor is by 
no means incompatible with the highest intellectual cul- 
ture. Work in moderation is healthy as well as agree- 
able to the human constitution. Work educates the 
body, as study educates the mind; and that is the best 
35 



546 The Use of Active Employment. 

state of society in which there is some work for every 
man's leisure, and some leisure for every man's work. 

The use of early labor in self-imposed mechanical' 
employments may be illustrated by the boyhood of Sir 
Isaac Newton. Though comparatively a dull scholar, 
he was very assiduous in the use of his saw, hammer, 
and hatchet — " knocking and hammering in his lodging 
room" — making models of windmills, carriages, and 
machines of all sorts; and as he grew older, he took 
delight in making little tables and cupboards for his 
friends. Smeaton, Watt, and Stephenson, were equally 
handy with tools when mere boys; and but for such 
kind of self-culture in their youth, it is doubtful whether 
they would have accomplished so much in their man- 
hood. Such was also the early training of the great 
inventors and mechanics described in the preceding pa- 
ges, whose contrivance and intelligence were practical- 
ly trained by the constant use of their hands in early 
life. Even where men belonging to the manual labor 
class have risen above it, and become more purely in- 
tellectual laborers, they have found the advantages of 
their early training in, their latter pursuits. Elihu Bur- 
ritt says he found hard labor necessary to enable him 
to study with effect; and more than once he gave up 
school-teaching and study, and, taking to his leather 
apron again, went back .to his blacksmith's forge and 
anvil for his health of body and mind's sake. 

The training of young men in the use of tools would, 
at the same time that it educated them in " common 



Education in Mechanics, 547 

things," teach them the use of their hands and arms, 
familiarize them with healthy work, exercise their fac- 
ulties upon things tangible and actual, give them some 
practical acquaintance with mechanics, impart to them 
the ability of being useful, and implant in them the 
habit of persevering physical effort. This is an advan- 
tage which the working classes, strictly so called, cer- 
tainly possess over the leisure classes — that they are in 
early life under the necessity of applying themselves 
laboriously to some mechanical pursuit or other — thus 
acquiring manual dexterity and the use of their physi- 
cal powers. The chief disadvantage attached to the 
calling of the laborious classes is, not that they are em- 
ployed in physical work, but that they are too exclu- 
sively so employed, often to the neglect of their moral 
and intellectual faculties. While the youths of the leis- 
ure classes, having been taught to associate labor with 
servility, have shunned it, and been allowed to grow up 
practically ignorant, the poorer classes, confining them- 
selves within the circle of their laborious callings, have 
been allowed to grow up, in a large proportion of cases, 
absolutely illiterate. It seems .possible however, to 
avoid both these evils by combining physical training or 
physical work with intellectual culture; and there are 
various signs abroad which seem to mark the gradual 
adoption of this healthier system of education. 

The success of even professional men depends in no 
slight degree on their physical health; and a public 
writer has gone so far as to say that the greatness of 



548 Healthiness of Great Men. 

our great men is quite as much a bodily affair as a 
mental one." A healthy breathing apparatus is as 
indispensable to the successful lawyer or politician as 
a well-cultured intellect. The thorough aeration of the 
blood by free exposure to a large breathing surface in 
the lungs, is necessary to maintain that full vital power 
on which the vigorous working of the brain in so large 
a measure depends. The lawyer has to climb the 
heights of his profession through close and heated 
courts, and the political leader has to bear the fatigue 
and excitement of long and anxious debates in a crowd- 
ed House. Hence the lawyer in full practice and the 
parliamentary leader in full work are called upon to 
display powers of physical endurance and activity even 
more extraordinary than those of the intellect — such 
powers as have been exhibited in so remarkable a de- 
gree by Brougham, Lyndhurst, and Campbell; by Peel, 
Graham, and Palmerston — all full-chested men 

While it is necessary, then, in the first place to se- 
cure this solid foundation of physical health, it must also 
be observed that the cultivation of the habit of mental 
application is quite indispensable for the education of 
the student. The maxim that " Labor conquers all 
things " holds especially true in the case of the con- 
quest of knowledge. The road into learning is alike 
free to all who will give the labor and the study requi- 
site to gather it; nor are there any difficulties so great 
that the student of resolute purpose may not surmount 
and overcome them. It was one of the characteristic 



Sustained Application. 549 

expressions of Chatterton, that God had sent his crea- 
tures into the world with arras long enough to reach 
any thing if they chose to be at the trouble. In study, 
as in business, energy is the great thing. There must 
be the " fervet opus:" we must not only strike the iron 
while it is hot, but strike it till it is made hot. It is 
astonishing how much may be accomplished in self- 
culture by the energetic and the persevering, who are 
careful to avail themselves of opportunities, and use up 
the fragments of spare time which the idle permit to 
run to waste. Thus Ferguson learnt astronomy from 
the heavens while wrapt in a sheep-skin on the high 
land hills. Thus Stone learnt mathematics while work- 
ing as a journeyman gardener; thus Drew studied the 
highest philosophy in the intervals of cobbling shoes; 
and thus Miller taught himself geology while working 
as a day-laborer in a quarry. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds, as we have already observed, 
was so earnest a believer in the force of industry, that 
he held that all men might achieve excellence if they 
would not exercise the power of assiduous and patient 
working. He held that drudgery lay on the road to 
genius, and that there was no limit to the proficiency of 
an artist except the limit of his own painstaking. He 
would not believe in what is called inspiration, but only 
in study and labor. " Excellence," he said, " is never 
granted to man but as the reward of labor." " If you 
have great talents, industry will improve them ; if you 
have but moderate abilities, industry will supply their 



550 Well-Directed Labor. 

deficiency. Nothing is denied to well-directed labor; 
nothing is to be obtained without *it." Sir Fowell Bux- 
ton was an equal believer in the power of study; and he 
entertained the modest idea that he could do as well as 
other men if he devoted to the pursuit double the time 
and labor that they did. He placed his great confidence 
in ordinary means and extraordinary application. 

" I have known several men in my life," says Dr. 
Ross, " who may be recognized in days to come as men 
of genius, and they were all plodders, hard-working, 
intent men. Genius is known by its works; genius 
without works is a blind faith, a dumb oracle. But 
meritorious works are the result of time and labor, and 
can not be accomplished by intention or by a wish. . . . 
Every great work is the result of vast preparatory train- 
ing. Facility comes by labor. Nothing seems easy, 
not even walking, that was not difficult at first. The 
orator whose eye flashes instantaneous fire, and whose 
lips pour out a flood of noble thoughts, startling by 
their unexpectedness and elevating by their wisdom 
and truth, has learned his secret by patient repetition, 
and after many bitter disappointments." 

Thoroughness and accuracy are two principal points 
to be aimed at in study. Francis Horner, in laying 
down rules for the cultivation of his mind, placed great 
stress upon the habit of continuous application to one 
subject for the sake of mastering it thoroughly; he 
confined himself with this object to only a few books, 
and resisted with the greatest firmness " every approach 






Decision and Promptitude. 551 

to a habit of desultory reading." The value of knowl- 
edge to any man consists not in its quantity, but mainly 
In the good uses to which he can apply it. Hence a 
little knowledge of an exact and perfect character, is 
always found more valuable for practical purposes than 
any extent of superficial learning. 

The most profitable study is that which is conducted 
with a definite aim and object. By thoroughly mas- 
tering any given branch of knowledge we render it 
more available for use at any moment. Hence it is not 
enough merely to have books, or to know where to read 
for information as we want it. Practical wisdom, for 
the purposes of life, must be carried about with us, and 
be ready for use at call. It is not sufficient that we 
have a fund laid up at home, but not a farthing in the 
pocket : we must carry about with us a store of the cur- 
rent coin of knowledge read}" for exchange on all oc- 
casions, else we are comparitively helpless when the 
opportunity for using it occurs. 

Decision and promptitude are as requisite in self- 
culture as in business. The growth of these qualities 
may be encouraged by accustoming young people to 
rely upon their own resources, leaving them to enjoy 
as much freedom of action in early life as is practicable. 
Too much guidance and restraint hinder the formation 
of habits of self-help. They are like bladders tied un- 
der the arms of one who has not taught himself to swim. 
Want of confidence is perhaps a greater obstacle to im- 
provement than is generally imagined. It has been said 



552 Confidence. 

that half the failures in life arise from pulling in one's 
horse while he is leaping. Dr. Johnson was accus- 
tomed to attribute his success to confidence in his 
own powers. True modesty is quite compatible with 
a due estimate of one's own merits, and does not de- 
mand the abnegation of all merit. Though there are 
those who deceive themselves by putting a false figure 
before their ciphers, the want of confidence, the want 
of faith in one's self, and consequently the want of 
promptitude in action, is a defect of character which is 
found to stand very much in the way of individual 
progress; and the reason why so little is done, is gen- 
erally because so little is attempted. 

It is the use we make of the powers intrusted to us,, 
which constitutes our only just claim to respect. He 
who employs his one talent aright is as much to be hon- 
ored as he to whom ten talents have been given. There 
is really no more personal merit attaching to the posses- 
sion of superior intellectual powers than there is in the 
succession to a large estate. How are those powers, 
used — how is that estate employed? The mind may 
accumulate large stores of knowledge without any use- 
ful purpose; but the knowledge must be allied to good- 
ness and wisdom, and embodied in upright character,, 
else it is naught. 

It is possible that at this day we may even exagger- 
ate the importance of literary culture. We are apt to 
imagine that because we possess many libraries, insti- 
tutes, and museums, we are making great progress. 



Learning and Wisdom. ooS 

But such facilities may as often be a hindrance as a 
help to individual self-culture o( the highest kind. The 
possession of a library, or the free use of it, no more 
constitutes learning, than the possession of wealth con- 
stitutes generosity. Though we undoubtedly possess 
great facilities, it is nevertheless true, as of old, that 
wisdom and understanding can only become the pos- 
session of individual men by traveling the old road 
of observation, attention, persverance, and industry. 
The possession of the mere materials of knowledge is 
something very different from wisdom and understand- 
ing, which are reached through a higher kind of disci- 
pline than that of reading — which is often but a mere 
passive reception of other men's thoughts; there being 
little or no active effort of mind in the transaction. 

It is also to be borne in mind that the experience 
gathered from books, though often valuable, is but of 
the nature of learning/ whereas the experience gained 
from actual life is of the nature of wisdom / and a small 
store of the latter is worth vastly more than any stock 
of the former. Lord Bolingbroke truly said that 
" Whatever study tends neither directly nor indirectly 
to make us better men and citizens, is at best but a. 
specious and ingenious sort of idleness, and the knowl- 
edge we accquire by it only a creditable kind of igno- 
rance — nothing more." 

Useful and instructive though good reading may be v 
it is yet only one mode of cultivating the mind; and 
is much less influential than practical experience and 



•554 Learning and Character. 

good example in the formation of character. There 
were wise, valiant, and true-hearted men bred In Eng- 
land, long before the existence of a reading public. 
Magna Charta was secured by men who signed the 
deed with their marks. Though altogether unskilled 
in the art of deciphering the literary signs by which 
principles were denominated upon paper, they yet un 
derstood and appreciated, and boldly contended for 
the things themselves. Thus the foundations of Eng 
lish liberty were laid by men who, though illiterate 
were nevertheless of the very highest stamp of charac 
ter. And it must be admitted that the chief object of 
culture is, not merely to fill the mind with other men's 
thoughts, and to be the passive recipient of their im- 
pressions of things, but to enlarge our individual intel- 
ligence, and render us more useful and efficient workers 
in the sphere of life to which we may be called. Many 
of our most energetic and useful workers have been but 
.sparing readers. Brindley and Stephenson did not 
learn to read and write until they reached manhood, 
and yet they did great works and lived manly lives; 
John Hunter could barely read or write when he was 
twenty years old, though he could make tables and 
chairs with any carpenter in the trade. " I never 
read," said the great physiologist when lecturing be- 
fore his class; u this " — pointing to some part of the 
subject before him — " this is the work that you must 
study if you wish to become eminent in your profes- 
sion." When told that one of his contemporaries had 



Self-respect. 5oo 

charged him with being ignorant of the dead languages, 
he said, " I would undertake to teach him that on the 
dead body which he never knew in any language, dead 
or living." 

It is not then how much a man may know, that is 
of importance, but the end and purpose for which he 
knows it. The object of knowledge should be to ma- 
ture wisdom and improve character, to render us bet- 
ter, happier, and more useful ; the more benevolent, more 
energetic, and more efficient in the pursuit of every 
high purpose in life. " When people once fall into the 
habit of admiring and encouraging ability as such, with- 
out reference to moral character- — and religious and po- 
litical opinions are the concrete form of moral character 
— they are on the highway to all sorts of degradation." 
We must ourselves be and do, and not rest satisfied 
merely with reading and meditating over what other 
men have been and done. Our best light must be made 
life, and our best thought action. At least we ought 
to be able to say, as Richter did, " I have made as much 
out of myself as could be made of the stuff, and no man 
should require more;' 1 for it is every man's duty to dis- 
cipline and guide himself, with God's help, according 
to his responsibilities and the faculties with which he 
has been endowed. 

-Self-discipline and self-control are the beginnings of 
practical wisdom; and these must have their root in 
self-respect. Hope springs from it—hope, which is the 
companion of power, and the mother of success; for 



556 ''Getting on" 

whoso hopes strongly has within him the gift of mira- 
cles. The humblest may say, " To respect myself, to 
develop myself — this is my true duty in life. An inte- 
gral and responsible part of the great system of society, 
I owe it to society and to its Author not to degrade 
or destroy either my body, mind, or instincts. On the 
contrary, I am bound to the best of my power to give 
to those parts of my constitution the highest degree of 
perfection possible. I am not only to suppress the evil, 
but to evoke the good elements in my nature. And as 
I respect myself, so am I equally bound to respect oth- 
ers, as they on their part are bound to respect me." 
Hence mutual respect, justice, and order, of which law 
becomes the written record and guarantee. 

Self-respect is the noblest garment with which a man 
may clothe himself — the most elevating feeling with 
which the mind can be inspired. One of Pythagora's 
wisest maxims, in his " Golden Verses," is that with 
which he enjoins the pupil to "reverence himself." 
Borne up by this high idea, he will not defile his body 
by sensuality, nor his mind by servile thoughts. This 
sentiment, carried into daily life, will be found at the 
root of all the virtues — cleanliness, sobriety, chastity, 
morality, and religion. u The pious and just honoring 
of ourselves," said Milton, " may be thought the radical 
moisture and fountain-head from whence every laudable 
and worthy enterprise issues forth." To think meanly 
of one's self, is to sink in one's own estimation as well 
as in the estimation of others. And as the thoughts are. 



Wisdom Learnt from Failure. bo~ 

so will the acts be. Man can not aspire if he look down ; 
if he will rise, he must look up. The very humblest 
may be sustained by the proper indulgence of this feel- 
ing. Poverty itself may be lifted and lighted up by 
self-respect; and it is truly a noble sight to see a poor 
man hold himself upright amidst his temptations, and 
refuse to demean himself by low actions. 

It is not ease, but effort — not facility, but difficulty, 
that makes men. There is, perhaps, no station in life, 
in which difficulties have not to be encountered and 
overcome before any decided measure of success can be 
achieved. Those difficulties are, however, our best 
instructors, as our mistakes often form our best experi- 
ence. Charles James Fox was accustomed to say that 
he hoped more from a man who failed, and yet went on 
in spite of his failure, than from the buoyant career of 
the successful. " It is all very well," said he, " to tell 
me that a young man has distinguished himself by a 
brilliant first speech. He may go on, or he may be sat- 
isfied with his first triumph; but show me a young 
man who has not succeeded at first, and nevertheless has 
gone on, and I will back that young man to do better 
than most of those who have succeeded at the first trial." 

We learn wisdom from failure much more than from 
success. We often discover what will do, by finding 
out what will not do; and probably he who never made 
a mistake never made a discovery. It was the failure 
in the attempt to make a sucking-pump act, when the 
working-bucket was more than thirty-three feet above 



558 Adversity and Prosperity. 

the surface of the water to be raised, that led observant 
men to study the law of atmospheric pressure, and 
opened a new field of research to the genius of Galileo, 
Torrecelli, and Boyle. John Hunter used to remark 
that the art of surgery would not advance until pro- 
fessional men had the courage to publish their failures 
as well as their successes. Watt the engineer said, of 
all things most wanted in mechanical engineering was 
a history of failures: " We want," he said, " a book of 
blots." 

Necessity may be a hard schoolmistress, but she is 
generally found the best. Though the ordeal of adver- 
sity^ is one from which we naturally shrink, yet, when 
it comes, we must bravely and manfully encounter it. 
Burns says truly, 

"Though losses and crosses 

Be lessons right severe, 
There's wit there, you'll get there, 

You'll find no other where." 

" Sweet indeed are the uses of adversity." They re- 
veal to us our powers, and call forth our energies. If 
there be real worth in the character, like sweet herbs, 
it will give forth its finest fragrance when pressed. 
" Crosses," says the old proverb, " are the ladders that 
lead to heaven." " What is even poverty itself," asks 
Richter, "that a man should murmur under it? It is 
but as the pain of piercing a maiden's ear, and you 
hang precious jewels in the wound." In the experi- 
ence of life it is found that the wholesome discipline 
of adversity in strong natures usually carries with it a 



The School of Difficulty the Best School, 559* 

self-preserving influence. Many are found capable of 
bravely bearing up under privations, and cheerfully 
encountering obstructions, who are afterwards found 
unable to withstand the more dangerous influences of 
prosperity. It is only a weak man whom the wind 
deprives of his cloak; a man of average strength is. 
more in danger of losing it when assailed by the beams 
of a too genial sun. Thus it often needs a higher dis- 
cipline and a stronger character to bear up under good 
fortune than under adverse. Some generous natures 
kindle and warm with prosperity, but there are many 
on whom wealth has no such influence. Base hearts 
it only hardens, making those who were mean and ser* 
vile, mean and proud. But while prosperity is apt to 
harden the heart to pride, adversity in a man of reso- 
lution will serve to ripen it into fortitude. To use the 
words of Burke, u Difficulty is a severe instructor, set 
over us by the supreme ordinance of a parental guardian 
and instructor, who knows us better than we know our- 
selves, as He loves us better too. He that wrestles 
with us strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill; 
our antagonist is thus our helper. Without the neces- 
sity of encountering difficulty, life might be easier, but 
men would be worth less. For trials, wisely improved,, 
train the character, and teach self-help; thus hardship 
itself may often prove the wholesomest discipline for us,, 
though we recognize it not. 

The battle of life is, in most cases fought up-hill; 
and to win it without a struggle were perhaps to win 



560 The School of Difficulty the Best School 

it without honor. If there were no difficulties there 
would be no success ; if there were nothing to struggle 
for, there would be nothing to be achieved. Difficul- 
ties may intimidate the weak, but they act only as a 
wholesome stimulus to men of resolution and valor. 
All experience of life, indeed, serves to prove that the 
impediments thrown in the way of human advancement 
may. for the most part, be overcome by steady good 
conduct, honest zeal, activity, perseverance, and above 
all, by a determined resolution to surmount difficulties, 
and stand up manfully against misfortune. 

The School of Difficulty is the best school of moral 
discipline, for nations as for individuals.. Indeed, the 
history of difficulty would be but a histor}' of all the 
great and good things that have } r et been accomplished 
by men. It is hard to say how much northern nations 
owe to their encounter with a comparatively rude and 
changeable climate, and an originally sterile soil, which 
is one of the necessities of their condition — involving 
a perennial struggle with difficulties such as the natives 
of sunnier climes know nothing of. And thus it may 
be, that though our finest products are exotic, the skill 
and industry which have been necessary to rear them, 
have issued in the production of a native growth of men 
not surpassed on the globe. 

Wherever there is difficulty, the individual man must 
come out better for worse. Encounter with it will 
train his strength, and discipline his skill; heartening 
him for future effort, as the racer, by being trained to 



Difficulty and Success. 561 

run against the hill, at length courses with facility. 
The road to success may be steep to climb, and it puts 
to the proof the energies of him who would reach the 
summit. But by experience a man soon learns that 
obstacles are to be overcome by grappling with them; 
that the nettle feels as soft as silk when it is boldly 
grasped; and that the most effective help towards 
realizing the object proposed is the moral conviction 
that we can and will accomplish it. Thus difficulties 
often fall away of themselves before . the determination 
to overcome them. 

Much will be done if we do but try. Nobody knows 
what he can do till he has tried; and few try their 
best till they have been forced to do it. " If I could 
do such and such a thing," sighs the desponding youth. 
But nothing will be done if he only wishes. The desire 
must ripen into purpose and effort; and one energetic 
attempt is worth a thousand aspirations. It is these 
thorny " ifs " — the mutterings of impotence and despair 
— which so often hedge round the field of possibility, 
and prevent any thing being done or even attempted. 
" A difficulty," said Lord Lyndhurst, " is a thing to be 
overcome;" grapple with it at once; facility will -come 
with practice, and strength and fortitude with repeated 
effort. Thus the mind and character may be trained to 
an almost, perfect discipline, and enabled to act with a 
grace, spirit, and liberty, almost incomprehensible to 
those who have not passed through a similar experience. 

Every thing that we learn is the mastery of a diffi- 

.36 



562 



Difficulty and Success. 



culty; and the mastery of one helps to the mastery of 
others. Things which may at first sight appear com- 
paratively valueless in education — such as the study 
of the dead languages, and the relation of lines and 
surfaces which we call mathematics — are really of the 
greatest practical value, not so much because of the in- 
formation which they yield, as because of the develop- 
ment which they compel. The mastery of these stud- 
ies evokes effort, and cultivates powers of application, 
which otherwise might have lain dormant. Thus one 
thing leads to another, and so the work goes on through 
life — encounter with difficulty ending only when life 
and culture end. But indulging in the feeling of dis- 
couragement never helped any one or a difficulty, and 
never will. D'Alembert's advice to the student who 
complained to him about his want of success in master- 
ing the first elements of mathematics was the right one r 
u Go on, sir, and faith and strength will come to you. n 
The tortoise in the right road will beat a racer in 
the wrong. It matters not, though a youth be slow, if 
he be but diligent. Quickness of parts may even prove 
a defect, inasmuch as the boy who learns readily will 
often forget as readily; and also because he finds no 
need of cultivating that quality of application and per- 
severance which the slower youth is compelled to ex- 
ercise, and which proves so valuable an element in the 
formation of every character. Davy said, " What I am 
I have made myself;" and the same holds true univers- 
ally. 



Success Depends on Perseverance- 563 

To conclude: the best culture is not obtained from 
teachers when at school or college, so much as by our 
own diligent self-education when we have become men. 
Hence parents need not be in too great haste to see 
their children's talents forced into bloom. Let them 
watch and wait patiently, letting good example and 
quiet training do their work, and leave the rest to 
Providence. Let them see to it that the youth is pro- 
vided, by free exercise of his bodily powers, with a full 
stock of physical health; set him fairly on the road of 
self-culture; carefully train his habits of application 
and perseverance; and as he grows older, if the right 
stuff be in him, he will be enabled vigorously and effect- 
ively to cultivate himself. 




CHAPTER XLIV. 



THRIFT INDUSTRY. 



Private Economy. — Useful Labors. — Our Birthright. — Results of Labor. — 
Necessity for Labor. — Industry and Intellect. — Thrift and Civiliz?*-' m. 
—Thrifty Industry.— Thrifty Economy. 

' * For the structure that we raise 
Time is with materials filled ; 
Our to-days and yesterdays 
Are the blocks with which we build. " — Longfellow. 

'TXHRIFT began with civilization. It began when 
"**- men found it necessary to provide for to-morrow 
as well as for to-day. It began long before money was 
invented. 

Thrift means private economy. It includes domes- 
tic economy, as well as the order and management of 
a family. 

While it is the object of Private Economy to create 
and promote the well-being of individuals, it is the ob- 
ject of Political Economy to create and increase the 
wealth of nations. 

Private and public wealth have the same origin. 
Wealth is obtained by labor; it is preserved by sav- 
ings and accumulations; and it is increased by dili- 
gence and perseverance. 

5^4 



Private Economy. 565 

It is the savings of individuals which compose the 
wealth — in other words, the well-being — of every na- 
tion. On the other hand, it is the wastefulness of 
individuals which occasions the impoverishment of 
states. So that every thrifty person may be regarded 
as a public benefactor, and every thriftless person as a 
public enemy. 

There is no dispute as to the necessity for Private 
Economy. Every body admits it, and recommends it. 
But with respect to Political Econorrry there are nu- 
merous discussions — for instance, as to the distribution, 
of capital, the accumulations of property, the incidence 
of taxation, the poor-laws, and other subjects — into 
which we do not propose to enter. The subject of 
Private Economy, of Thrift, is quite sufficient by itself 
to occupy the pages of this book. 

Economy is not a natural instinct, but the growth 
of experience, example, and forethought. It is also 
the result of education and intelligence. It is only 
when men become wise and thoughtful that they be- 
come frugal. Hence the best means of making men 
and women provident is to make them wise. 

Prodigality is much more natural to man than thrift. 
The savage is the greatest of spendthrifts, for he has no 
forethought, no to-morrow. The prehistoric man saved 
nothing. He lived in caves, or in hollows of the 
ground covered with branches. He subsisted on shell- 
fish which he picked up on the sea-shore, or upon hips 
and haws which he gathered in the woods. He killed 



566 . Useful Labors. 

animals with stones. He lay in wait for them, or ran 
them down on foot. Then he learned to use stones 
as tools; making stone arrow-heads and spear-points, 
thereby utilizing his labor, and killing birds and ani- 
mals more quickly, 

The original savage knew nothing of agriculture. 
It was only in comparatively recent times that men 
gathered seeds for food, and saved a portion of them 
for next year's crop. When minerals were discovered, 
and fire was applied to them, and the minerals became 
smelted into metal, man made an immense stride. He 
could, then fabricate hard tools, chisel stone, build houses, 
and proceed by unwearying industry to devise the man- 
ifold means and agencies of civilization. 

The dweller by the ocean burned a hollow in a felled 
tree, launched it, went to sea in it, and fished for food. 
The hollowed tree became a boat held together with 
iron nails. The boat became a galley, a ship, a paddle- 
boat, a screw steamer, and the world was opened up for 
colonization and civilization. 

Man would have continued a savage, but for the 
results of the useful labors of those who preceded him. 
The soil was reclaimed by them, and made to grow 
food for human uses. They invented tools and fabrics, 
and we reap the useful results. They discovered art 
and science, and we succeed to the useful effects of 
their labors. 

All nature teaches that no good thing which has 
once been done passes utterly away. The living are 



Our Birthright. 567 

ever reminded of the buried millions who have worked 
and won before them. The handicraft and skill dis- 
played in the buildings and sculptures of the long-lost 
cities of Nineveh, Babylon, and Troy, have descended 
to the present time. In natures economy no human 
labor is altogether lost. Some remnant of useful effect 
continues to reward the race, if not the individual. 

The mere material wealth bequeathed to us by our 
forefathers forms but an insignificant item in the sum 
of our inheritance. Our birthright is made up of some- 
thing far more imperishable. It consists of the sum of 
the usual effects of human skill and labor. These effects 
were not transmitted by learning, but by teaching and 
example. One generation taught another, and thus art 
and handicraft, the knowledge of mechanical appliances 
and materials, continues to be preserved. The labors 
and efforts of former generations were thus transmitted 
by father to son ; and they continue to form the natural 
heritage of the human race — one of the most important 
instruments of civilization. 

Our birthright, therefore, consists in the usual effects 
of the labors of our forefathers; but we can not enjoy 
them unless we ourselves take part in the work. All 
must labor, either with hand or head. Without work, 
life is worthless ; it becomes a mere state of moral coma. 
We do not mean merely physical work. There is a 
great deal of higher work — the work of action and en- 
durance, of trial and patience, of enterprise and philan- 
thropy, of spreading truth and civilization, of diminish- 



568 Hesults of Labor, 

ing suffering and relieving the poor, of helping the weak r 
and enabling them to help themselves. 

u A noble heart," says Barrow, " will disdain to sub- 
sist, like a drone, upon others' labors; like a vermin, 
to filch its food out of the public granary; or, like a 
shark, to prey upon the lesser fry; but it will rather 
outdo his private obligations to other men's care and 
toil, by considerable service and beneficence to the 
public; for there is no calling of any sort, from the 
sceptre to the spade, the management whereof, with 
any good success, any credit, any satisfaction, doth not 
demand much work of the head, or of the hands, or of 
both." 

Labor is not only a necessity, but it is also a pleas- 
ure. What would otherwise be a curse, by the consti- 
tution of our physical system becomes a blessing. Our 
life is a conflict with nature in some respects, but it is 
also a co-operation with nature in others. The sun, 
the air, and the earth are constantly abstracting from 
us our vital forces. Hence we eat and drink for nour- 
ishment, and clothe ourselves for warmth. 

Nature works with us. She provides the earth 
which we furrow; she grows and ripens the seeds that 
we sow and gather. She furnishes, with the help of 
human labor, the wool that we spin and the food that 
we eat. And it ought never to be forgotten that, how- 
ever rich or poor we may be, all that we eat, all that 
we are clothed with, all that shelters us, from the palace 
to the cottage, is the result of labor. 



Necessity of Labor, 569 

Men co-operate with each other for the mutual sus- 
tenance of all. The husbandman tills the ground and 
provides food; the manufacturer weaves tissues, which 
the tailor and the seamstress make into clothes; the 
mason and the bricklayer build the houses in which we 
enjoy household life. Numbers of workmen thus con- 
tribute and help to create the general result 

Labor and skill applied to the vulgarest things in- 
vest them at once with precious value. Labor is indeed 
the life of humanity; take it away, banish it, and the 
race of Adam were at once stricken with death. " He 
that will not work," said St. Paul, " neither shall he 
eat;" and the apostle glorified himself in that he had 
labored with his own hands, and had not been charge- 
able to any man. 

There is a well-known story of an old farmer calling 
his three idle sons around him when on his death bed, 
to impart to them an important secret. " My sons," 
said he, " a great treasure lies hid in the estate which 
I am about to leave to you." The old man gasped. 
"Where is it hid?" exclaimed the sons in a breath. 
" I am about to tell you," said the old man; " you will 
have to dig for it — " But his breath failed him before 
he could impart the weighty secret, and he died. Forth- 
with the sons set to work with spade and mattock upon 
the long-neglected fields, and they turned up every sod 
and clod upon the estate. They discovered no treas- 
ure, but they learned to work; and when the fields were 
sown, and the harvest came, lo! the yield was prodigious, 



.'570 Necessity of Labor. 

In consequence of the thorough tillage which they had 
undergone. Then it was that they discovered the treas- 
ure concealed in the estate, of which their wise old fa- 
ther had advised them. 

Labor is at once a burden, a chastisement, an honor, 
and a pleasure. It may be identified with poverty, but 
there is also glory in it. It bears witness, at the same 
time, to our natural wants and to our manifold needs. 
What were man, what were life, what were civiliza- 
tion, without labor? All that is great in man comes 
of labor — greatness in art, in literature, in science. 
Knowledge — " the wing wherewith we fly to heaven 17 
— is only acquired through labor. Genius is but a ca- 
pability of laboring intensely: it is the power of making 
great and sustained efforts. Labor may be a chastise- 
ment, but it is indeed a glorious one. It is worship, 
duty, praise, and immortality — for those who labor with 
the highest aims and for the purest purposes. 

There are many who murmur and complain at the 
law of labor under which we live, without reflecting 
that obedience to it is not only in conformity with the 
Divine will, but also necessary for the development of 
intelligence, and for the thorough enjoyment of our 
common nature. Of all wretched men, surely the idle 
.are the most so — those whose life is barren of utility, 
who have nothing to do except to gratify their senses. 
Are not such men the most querulous, miserable, and 
dissatisfied of all, constantly in a state of ennui, alike 
useless to themselves and to others — mere cumberers of 



Industry and Intellect 571 

the earth, who, when removed, are missed by none, and 
whom none regret? Most wretched and ignoble lot, 
indeed, is the lot of the idlers. 

Who have helped phe world onward so much as the 
workers ; men who have had to work from necessity or 
from choice? All that we call progress — civilization, 
well-being, and prosperity — depends upon industry, 
diligently applied — from the culture of a barley-stalk 
to the construction of a steamship; from the stitching 
of a collar to the sculpturing of " the statue that enchants 
the world. 

All useful and beautiful thoughts, in like manner, are 
the issue of labor, of stud}', of observation, of research, 
of diligent elaboration. The noblest poem can not be 
elaborated, and send down its undying strains into the 
future, without steady and painstaking labor. No great 
work has ever been done "at a heat." It is the result 
of repeated efforts, and often of many failures. One 
generation begins, and another continues — the present 
co-operating with the past. Thus, the Parthenon be- 
gan with a mud-hut; the " Last Judgment" with a few 
scratches on the sand. It is the same with individuals 
of the race: they begin with abortive efforts, which, by 
means of perseverance, lead to successful issues. 

The history of industry is uniform in the character 
of its illustrations. Industry enables the poorest man 
to achieve honor, if not distinction. The greatest names 
in the history of art, literature, and science are those 
of laboring men. A working instrument-maker gave 



572 Thrift and Civilization. 

us the steam-engine; a barber, the spinning-machine; 
a weaver, the mule; a pitman perfected the locomotive; 
and working men of all grades have, one after another, 
added to the triumphs of mechanical skill. 

By the working-man we do not mean merely the 
man who labors with his muscles and sinews. A horse 
can do this. But he is pre-eminently the working-man 
who works with his brain also, and whose whole phys- 
ical system is under the influence of his higher faculties. 
The man who paints a picture, who writes a book, who 
makes a law, who creates a poem, is a working-man of 
the highest order; not so necessary to the physical sus- 
tainment of the community as the plowman or the shep- 
herd, but not less important as providing for society its 
highest intellectual nourishment. 

Having said so much of the importance ana necessity 
of industry, let us see what uses are made of the advan- 
tages derivable from it. It is clear that man would have 
continued a savage but for the accumulations of savings 
made by our forefathers — the savings of skill, of art, of 
invention, and of intellectual culture. 

It is the savings of the world that have made the 
civilization of the world. Savings are the result of 
labor; and it is only when laborers begin to save that 
the results of civilization accumulate. We have said 
that thrift began with civilization; we might almost 
have said that thrift produced civilization. Thrift pro- 
duces capital, and capital is the conserved result of labor. 
The capitalist does not spend all that is earned by work. 



Thrifty Industry. 573 

But thrift is not a natural instinct. It is an acquired 
principle of conduct. It involves self-denial — the denial 
of present enjoyment for future good — the subordina- 
tion of animal appetite to reason, forethought, and 
prudence. It works for to-day, but also provides for 
to-morrow. It invests the capital it has saved, and 
makes provision for the future. 

" Man's right of seeing the future," says Mr. Edward 
Denison, " which is conferred on him by reason, has at- 
tached to it the duty of providing for^ that future ; and 
our language bears witness to this truth by using, as 
expressive of active precaution against future want, a 
word which in its radical meaning implies only a pas- 
sive foreknowledge of the same. Whenever we speak 
of the virtue of providence , we assume that forewarned 
is fore-armed. To know the future is no virtue, but it 
is the greatest of virtues to prepare for it." 

But a large proportion of men do not provide for the 
future. They do not remember the past. They think 
only of the present. They preserve nothing. They 
spend all that they earn. They do not provide for 
themselves; they do not provide for their families. 
They may make high wages, but eat and drink the 
whole of what they earn. , Such people are constantly 
poor, and hanging on the verge of destitution. 

It is the same with nations. The nations which 
consume all that 'they produce, without leaving a store 
for future production, have no capital. Like thriftless 
individuals, they live from hand to mouth, and are al- 



574 Thrifty Economy. 

ways poor and miserable. Nations that have no capi- 
tal have no commerce. They have no accumulations 
to dispose of; hence they have no ships, no sailors, no 
docks, no harbors, no canals, and no railways. Thrifty 
industry lies at the root of the civilization of the world. 

Look at Spain. There, the richest soil is the least 
productive. Along the banks of the Guadalquivir, 
where once twelve thousand villages existed, there 
are now not eight hundred; and they are full of beg- 
gars. A Spanish proverb says, " El cielo y suelo es 
bueno, el entresuelo malo" — " The sky is good, the earth 
is good; that only is bad which lies between the sky 
and the earth. 1 ' Continuous effort, or patient labor, is 
for the Spaniard an insupportable thing. Half through 
indolence, half through pride, he can not bend to work. 
A Spaniard will blush to work; he will not blush to 
beg! 

It is in this way that society mainly consists of two 
classes" — the savers and the wasters, the provident 
and the improvident, the thrifty and the thriftless, the 
Haves and Have-nots. 

The men who economize by means of labor become 
the owners of capital which sets other labor in motion. 
Capital accumulates in their hands, and they employ 
other laborers to work for them. Thus trade and 
commerce begin. 

The thrifty build houses, warehouses, and mills. 
They fit manufactories with tools and machines. They 
build ships, and send them to various parts of the 



Thrifty Economy, 575 

world. They put their capital together, and build 
railroads, harbors, and docks. They open up mines of 
coal, iron, and copper; and erect pumping-engines to 
keep them clear of water. They employ laborers to 
work the mines, and thus give rise to an immense 
amount of employment. 

All this is the result of thrift. It is the result ot 
economizing money, and employing it for beneficial 
purposes. The thriftless man has no share in the prog- 
ress of the world. He spends all that he gets, and cau 
give no help to any body. No matter how much 
money he makes, his position is not in any respect 
raised. He husbands none of his resources. He is al- 
ways calling for help. He is, in fact, the born thrall 
and slave of the thrifty. 




CHAPTER XLV. 



HABITS OF THRIFT. 



Workmen and Capital. —"Habits of Economy. — Self-indulgence. — Results of 
Thriftlessness. — Uses 01 Saved Money. — Extravagant Living. — Bargain- 
buying.— Thrift and Unthrift.— Mortality— Will Nobody Help Us?— 
Prosperous Times the Least Prosperous. — National Prosperity. — Moral 
Independence. 



" Most men work for the present, a few for the future. The wise work 
for both — for the future in the present, and for the present, in the 
future." — Guesses at Truth 

/COMPETENCE and comfort lie within the reach 
^^ of most people, were they to take the adequate 
means to secure and enjoy them. Men who are paid 
good wages might also become capitalists, and take 
their fair share in the improvement and well-being of 
the world. But it is only by the exercise of labor, en- 
ergy, honesty, and thrift, that they can advance their 
own position or that of their class. 

Society at present surfers far more from waste of 
money than from want of money. It is easier to make 
monq§ 7 than to know how to spend it. It is not what 
a man gets thats constitutes his wealth, but his manner 
of spending and economizing. And when a man ob- 
tains by his labor more than enough for his personal 

576 



Workmen and Capital* 577 

and family wants, and can lay by a little store ot sav- 
ings besides, he unquestionably possesses the elements 
of social well-being. The savings may amount to lit- 
tle, but they may be sufficient to make him independent. 

There is no reason why the highly paid workman of 
to-day may not save a store of capital. It is merely a 
matter of self-denial and private economy. Indeed, 
the principal industrial leaders of to-day consist, for 
the most part, of men who have sprung directly from 
the ranks. It is the accumulation of experience and 
skill that makes the difference between the workman 
and the /ztf-workman; and it depends upon the work- 
man himself whether he will save his capital or waste 
it. If he save it, he will always find that he has suffi- 
cient opportunities for employing it profitably and 
usefully. 

Thrift of time is equal- to thrift of money. Franklin 
said, " Time is gold." If one wishes to earn money, 
it may be done by the proper use of time. But time 
may also be spent in doing many good 'and noble 
actions. It may be spent in learning, in study, in art, 
in science, in literature. Time can be economized by 
system. System is an arrangement to secure certain 
ends, so that no time may be lost in accomplishing 
them. Every business man must be systematic and 
orderly; so must every housewife. There must g be a 
place for every thing, and every thing in its place. 
There must also be a time for every thing, and # every 
thing must be done in time. 
37 



578 Habits of Economy* 

It is not necessary to show that economy is useful- 
Nobody denies that thrift may be practiced. We see 
numerous examples of it. What many men have al- 
ready done, all other men may do. Nor is thrift a 
painful virtue. On the contrary, it enables us to avoid 
much contempt and many indignities. It requires us 
to deny ourselves, but not to abstain from any proper 
injoyment. It provides many honest pleasures, of which 
thriftlessness and extravagance deprives us. 

Let no man say that he can not economize. There 
are few persons who could not contrive to save a few 
shillings weekly. In twenty years, three shillings 
saved weekly would amount to two hundred and forty 
pounds; and in ten years more, by addition of interest, 
to four hundred and twenty pounds. Some may say 
that they can not save nearly so much. Well! begin 
with two shillings, one shilling, or even sixpence. Be- 
gin somewhere; but, at all events, make a beginning. 
Sixpence a week deposited in the savings-bank, will 
amount to forty pounds in twenty years, and seventy 
pounds in thirty years. It is the habit of economizing 
and denying one 1 s self that needs to be formed. 

Thrift does, not require superior courage, nor superior 
intellect, nor any superhuman virtue. It merely re- 
quires common sense, and the power of resisting selfish 
enjoyments. In fact, thrift is merely common sense in 
every-day working action. It needs no fervent resolu- 
tion, but only a little patient self-denial. Begin is 
its device! The more the habit of thrift is practiced 



Self-indulgence. 579 

the easier it becomes, and the sooner it compensates the 
self-denier for the sacrifices which it has imposed. 

The question may be asked. Is it possible for a man 
working for small wages to save any thing, and lay it 
by in a savings-bank, when he requires every penny 
for the maintenance of his family? But the fact re- 
mains, that it is done b}^ many industrious and sober 
men; that they do deny themselves, and put their 
spare earnings into savings-banks, and the other recep- 
tacles provided for poor men's savings. And if some 
can do this, all may do it under similar circumstances, 
without depriving themselves of any genuine pleasure 
or any real enjoyment. 

How intensely selfish is it for any one in the receipt 
of good pay to spend every thing upon himself; or, if 
he has a family, to spend his whole earnings from week 
to week, and lay nothing by. When we hear that a 
man who has been in the receipt of a good salary has 
died and left nothing behind him — that he has left his 
wife and family destitute— left them to chance — to live 
or perish anywhere — we can not but regard it as the 
most selfish thriftlessness. And yet comparatively lit- 
tle is thought of such cases. Perhaps the hat goes 
round. Subscriptions may produce something — perhaps 
nothing; and the ruined remnant of the unhappy family 
sink into poverty and destitution. 

Yet the merest prudence would, to a great extent, 
have obviated this result. The curtailment of any 
sensual and selfish enjoyment — of a glass of beer or a 



580 Results of Thriftlessness. 

screw of tobacco — would enable a man, in the course 
of years, to save at least something for others, instead 
of wasting it on himself. It is, in fact, the absolute 
duty of the poorest man to provide, in however slight 
a degree, for the support of himself and his family in 
the season of sickness and helplessness, which often 
comes upon men when they least expect such a visi- 
tation. 

Comparatively few people can be rich; but most have 
it in their power to acquire, by industry and economy, 
sufficient to meet their personal wants. They may 
even become the possessors of saving sufficient to se- 
cure them against penury and poverty in their old age. 
It is not, however, the want of opportunity, but the 
want of will, that stands in the way of economy. Men 
may labor unceasingly with hand or head; but they 
can not abstain from spending too freely, and living 
too highly. 

The majority prefer the enjoyment of pleasure to the 
practice of self-denial. With the mass of men the ani- 
mal is paramount. They often spend all that they earn. 
But it is not merely the working people who are spend- 
thrifts. We hear of men who for years have been 
earning and spending hundreds a year, who suddenly 
die, leaving their children penniless. Every body knows 
of such cases. At their death the ver}* furniture of the 
house they have lived in belongs to others. It is sold 
to pay their funeral expenses, and the debts which they 
have incurred during their thriftless life-time. 



Uses of /Saved Money. 581 

Money represents a multitude of objects without 
value, or without real utility; but it also represents 
something much more precious, and that is independ- 
ence. In this light it is of great moral importance. 

As a guarantee of independence, the modest and ple- 
bian quality of economy is at once ennobled and raised 
to the rank of one of the most meritorious of virtues. 
" Never treat money affairs with levity," said Bulwer; 
" money is character.'' 1 Some of man's best qualities 
depend upon the right use of money — such as his gen- 
erosity, benevolence, justice, honesty, and forethought. 
Many of his worse qualities also originate in the bad 
use of money — such as greed, miserliness, injustice, ex- 
travagance, and improvidence. 

No class ever accomplished any thing that lived 
from hand to mouth. People who spend all that they 
earn are ever hanging on the brink of destitution. They 
must necessarily be weak and impotent — the slaves of 
time and circumstance. They keep themselves poor. 
They lose self-respect, as well as the respect of others. 
It is impossible that they can be free and independent. 
To be thriftless is enough to deprive one of all manly 
spirit and virtue. 

But a man with something saved, no matter how lit- 
tle, is in a different position. The little capital he has 
stored up is always a source of power. He is no long- 
er the sport of time and fate. He can boldly look the 
world in the face. He is, in a manner, his own master. 
He can dictate his own terms. He can neither be bought 



582 Extravagant Living, 

nor sold. He can look forward with cheerfulness to an 
old age of comfort and happiness. 

As men become wise and thoughtful, they generally 
become provident and frugal. A thoughtless man, like 
a savage, spends as he gets, thinking nothing of to- 
morrow, of the time of adversity, or of the claims of 
these whom he has made dependent on him. But a 
wise man thinks of the future ; he prepares in good time 
for the evil day that may come upon him and his fami- 
ly; and he provides carefully for those who are near 
and dear to him. 

What a serious responsibility does the man incur who 
marries! Not many seriously think of this responsibil- 
ity. Perhaps this is wisely ordered. For much serious 
thinking might end in the avoidance of married life and 
its responsibilities. But, once married, a man ought 
forthwith to determine that, so far as his own efforts 
are concerned, want shall never enter his household; 
and that his children shall not, in the event of his being 
removed from the scene of life and labor, be left a bur- 
den upon society. 

Economy with this object is an important duty. 
Without economy, no man can be just — no man can be 
honest. Improvidence is cruelty to women and chil- 
dren, though the cruelty is born of ignorance. A father 
spends his surplus means in drink, providing little and 
saving nothing; and then he dies, leaving his destitute 
family his life-long victims. Can any form of cruelty 
surpass this? Yet this reckless course is pursued to 



Bargain-Buying. 583 

a large extent among every class. The middle and 
upper classes are equally guilty with the lower class. 
They live beyond their means. They live extrava- 
gantly. They are ambitious of glare and glitter, fri- 
volity and pleasure. They struggle to be rich, that 
they may have the means of spending — of drinking rich 
wines and giving good dinners. 

Man)' persons are diligent enough in making money, 
but do not know how to economize it, or how to spend 
it. They have sufficient skill and industry to do the 
one, but they want the necessary wisdom to do the 
other. The temporary passion for enjoyment seizes us, 
and we give way to it without regard to consequences. 
And }-et it may be merely the result of forgetfulness, 
and may be easily controlled by firmness of will, and by 
energetic resolution to avoid the occasional causes of 
expenditure for the future. 

The habit of saving arises, for the most part, in the 
desire to ameliorate our social condition, as well as to 
ameliorate the condition of those who are dependent 
upon us. It dispenses with every thing which is not 
essential, and avoids all methods of living that are 
wasteful and extravagant. A purchase made at the 
lowest price will be dear, if it be a superfluity. Little 
expenses lead to great. Buying things that are not 
wanted soon accustoms us to prodigality in other re- 
spects. 

Cicero said, " Not to have a mania for buying, is to 
possess a revenue.' 1 Many are carried away by the 



584 Bargain-Buying, 

habit of bargain-buying. " Here is something wonder- 
fully cheap; let us buy it. " "Have you any use for 
it?" " No, not at present; but it is sure to come in 
useful, some time." Fashion runs in this habit of buy- 
ing. Some buy old china — as much as will furnish a 
china-shop. Others buy old pictures — old furniture — 
old wines — all great bargains! There would be little 
harm in buying these old things, if they were not so 
often bought at the expense of the connoisseur's credi- 
tors. Horace Walpole once said, " I hope that there 
will not be another sale, for I have not an inch of room 
nor a farthing left." 

Men must prepare in youth and in middle age the 
means for enjoying old age pleasantly and happily. 
There can be nothing more distressing than to see an 
old man who has spent the greater part of his life in 
well-paid-for labor, reduced to the necessity of begging 
for bread, and relying entirely upon the commiseration 
of his neighbors or upon the bounty of strangers. Such 
a consideration as this should inspire men in early life 
with a determination to work and to save, for the bene- 
fit of themselves and their families in later years. 

It is, in fact, in youth that economy should be prac- 
ticed, and in old age that men should dispense liberally, 
provided they do not exceed their income. The young 
man has a long future before him, during which he may 
exercise the principles of economy; while the other is 
reaching the end of his career, and can carry nothing 
out of the world with him. 



Thrift and Unihrift. 5S5 

This, however, is not the usual practice. The young 
man now spends, or desires to spend, quite as liberally,, 
and often much more liberally, than his father, who is 
about to end his career. He begins life where his father 
left off. He spends more than his father did at his age, 
and soon finds himself up to his ears in debt. To satisfy 
his incessant wants, he resorts to unscrupulous means 
and to illicit gains. He tries to make money rapidly; 
he speculates, overtrades, and is speedily wound up. 
Thus he obtains experience; but it is the result, not 
of well-doing, but of ill-doing. 

Socrates recommends fathers of families to observe 
the practice of their thrifty neighbors — of those who 
spend their means to the best advantage — and to profit 
by their example. Thrift is essentially practical, and 
can best be taught by facts. Two men earn, say, five 
shillings a day. They are in precisely the same condi- 
tion as respects family living and expenditure. Yet 
the one says he can not save, and does not; while the 
other says he can save, and regularly deposits part of 
his savings in a savings-bank, and eventually becomes a 
capitalist. 

Samuel Johnson fully knew the straits of poverty. 
He once signed his name Impransiis, or Dinnerless. 
He had walked the streets with Savage, not knowing- 
where to lay his head at night. Johnson never forgot 
the poverty through which he passed in his early life, 
and he was always counseling his friends and readers 
to avoid it. Like Cicero, he averred that the best 



dSQ Johnson on Economy. 

source of wealth or well-being was economy. He called 
it the daughter of Prudence, the sister of Temperance, 
and the mother of Liberty. 

" Poverty," he said, " takes away so many means of 
doing good, and produces so much inability to resist 
• evil, both natural and moral, that it is by all virtuous 
means to be avoided. Resolve, then, not to be poor; 
whatever you have, spend less. Frugality is not only 
the basis of quiet, but of beneficence. No man can 
help others who wants help himself; we must have 
enough before we have to spare." 

And again he said, " Poverty is a great enemy to 
human happiness. It certainly destroys liberty, and 
it makes some virtues impracticable, and others ex- 
tremely difficult. . . . All to whom want is terrible, 
upon whatever principle, ought to think themselves 
obliged to learn the sage maxims of our parsimonious 
ancestors, and attain the salutary arts of contracting 
expense; for without economy none can be rich, and 
with it few can be pure." 

When economy is looked upon as a thing that must 
be practiced, it will never be felt as a burden; and 
those who have not before observed it, will be astonished 
to find what a few pence or shillings laid aside weekly 
will do toward securing moral elevation, mental culture, 
and personal independence. 

There is a dignity in every attempt to economize. 
Its very practice is improving. It indicates self-denial, 
and imparts strength to the character. It produces 



Self-respect. 587 

a well-regulated mind. It fosters temperance. It is 
based on forethought. It makes prudence the dominat- 
ing characteristic. It gives virtue the master) 7 over 
self-indulgence. Above all, it secures comfort, drives 
away care, and dispels many vexations and anxieties 
which might otherwise prey upon us. 

Some will say, " It can't be done." But every body 
can do something. " It can't '■' is the ruin of men and 
of nations. In fact, there is no greater cant than canH. 
Take an instance: A glass of beer \a day is equal to 
forty-five shillings a year. This sum will insure a 
man's life for a hundred and thirty pounds payable at 
death. Or, placed in a savings-bank, it would amount 
to a hundred pounds in twenty years. But many drink 
half a dozen glasses of beer a day. This amount of 
beer, not drunk, would amount, during that time, to 
six hundred pounds. The man who spends ninepence 
a day in liquor squanders in fifty years nearly two 
thousand pounds. 

A master recommended one of his workmen to " lay 
by something for a rainy day." Shortly after, the 
master asked the man how much he had added to his 
store. " Faith, nothing at all," said he; u I did as you 
bid me; but it rained very hard yesterday, and it all 
went — in drink!" 

That a man should maintain himself and his family 
without the help of others is due to his sense of self- 
respect. Every genuine, self-helping man ought to re- 
spect himself. He is the center of his own little world. 



588 Self-respect. 

His personal loves, likings, experiences, hopes, and fears 
—how important they are to him, although of little 
consequence to others! They affect his happiness, his 
daily life, and his whole being as a man. He can not, 
therefore, but feel interested, deeply interested, in all 
that concerns himself. 

To do justice, a man must think well not only of 
himself, but of the duties which he owes to others. 
He must not aim too low, but regard man as created 
" a little lower than the angels. " Let him think of his 
high destiny — of the eternal interests in which he has 
a part — of the great scheme of nature and providence 
— of the intellect with* which he has been endowed — 
of the power of loving conferred upon him — of the 
home on earth provided for him; and he will cease to 
think meanly of himself The poorest human being is 
the centre of two eternities, the Creator overshadowing 
all. 

Hence, let every man respect himself — his body, his 
mind, his character. Self-respect, originating in self- 
love, instigates the first step of improvement. It stim- 
ulates a man to rise, to look upward to develop his 
intelligence to improve his condition. Self-respect is 
the root of most of the virtues — of cleanliness, chastity, 
reverence, honesty, sobriety. To think meanly of one's 
self is to sink — -sometimes to descend a precipice at the 
bottom of which is infamy. 

Every man can help himself to some extent. We are 
not mere straws thrown upon the current to mark its 



• Self-help. 589 

course; but possessed of freedom of action, endowed 
with power to stem the waves and rise above them, 
each marking out a course for himself. We can each 
elevate ourselves in" the scale of moral being. We can 
cherish pure thoughts. We can perform good actions. 
We can live soberly and frugally. We can provide 
against the evil day. We can read good books, listen 
to wise teachers, and place ourselves under the divinest 
influences on earth. We can live for the highest pur- 
poses, and with the highest aims in view. 

" Self-love and social are the same," says one of our 
poets. The man who improves himself, improves the 
world. He adds one more true man to the mass. 
And the mass being made up of individuals, it is clear 
that were each to improve himself, the result would be 
the improvement of the whole. Social advancement is 
the consequence of individual advancement. The 
whole can not be pure, unless the individuals compos- 
ing it are pure. Society at large is but the reflex of 
individual conditions. All this is but the repetition of 
a truism, but truisms have often to be repeated to make 
their full impression. 

Then, again, a man, when he has improved himself, 
is better able to improve those who are brought into 
contact with him. He has more power. His sphere 
of vision is enlarged. He sees more clearly the defects 
in the condition of others that might be remedied. 
He can lend a more active helping hand to raise them. 
He has done his duty by himself, and can with more 



590 Uncertainty of Life. 

authority urge upon others the necessity of doing the 
like duty to themselves. How can a man be a social 
elevator, who is himself walking in the mire of self-in- 
dulgence? How can he teach sobriety or cleanliness, 
if he be himself drunken or foul? "Physician, heal 
thyself," is the answer of his neighbors. 

The sum and substance of our remarks is this: In 
all the individual reforms or improvements that we 
desire, we must begin with ourselves. We must 
exhibit our gospel in our own life. We must teach by 
our own example. If we would have others elevated, 
we must elevate ourselves. Each man can exhibit the 
results in his own person. He can begin with self-respect. 

The uncertainty of life is a strong inducement to 
provide against the evil day. To do this is a moral 
and social as well as a religious duty. " But if any 
provide not for his own, and specially for those of his 
own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than 
an infidel." 

The uncertainty of life is proverbially true. The 
strongest and healthiest man may be stricken down in 
a moment, by accident or disease. If we take human 
life in a mass, we can not fail to recognize the uncer- 
tainty of life as much as we do the certainty of death. 

There is a striking passage in Addison's " Vision of 
Mirza," in which life is pictured as a passage over a 
bridge of about a hundred arches. A black cloud hangs 
over each end of the bridge. At the entrance to it 
there are hidden pitfalls very thickly set, through which 



Laws of Mortality. 591 

throngs disappear, so soon as they have placed their 
feet upon the bridge. They grow thinner toward the 
centre; they gradually disappear; until at length only a 
few persons reach the farther side, and these also hav- 
ing dropped through the pitfalls, the bridge at its far- 
ther extremity becomes entirely clear. The descrip- 
tion of Addison corresponds with the results of the ob- 
servations made as to the duration of human life. 

Thus, of a hundred thousand persons born in this 
country, it has been ascertained that a fourth of them 
die before they have reached their fifth year, and one- 
half before they have reached their fiftieth year. One 
thousand one hundred will reach their ninetieth }^ear. 
Sixteen will live to a hundred. And only two persons 
out of the hundred thousand — like the last barks of an 
innumerable convoy — will reach the advanced and help- 
less age of a hundred and five years. 

Two things are very obvious — the uncertainty as to 
the hour of death in individuals, but the regularity and 
constancy of the circumstances which influence the du- 
ration of human life in the aggregate. It is a matter 
of certainty that the average life of all persons born in 
this country extends to about forty-five years. This 
has been proved by a very large number of observations 
of human life and its duration. 

Equally extensive observations have been made as to 
the average number of persons of various ages who die 
yearly. It is always the number of the experiments 
which gives the law of the probability. It is on such 



592 Laws of Mortality. 

observations that the actuary founds his estimates of 
the mortality that exists at any given period of life. 
The actuar}' tells you that he has been guided by the 
laws of mortalit} 7 . Now, the results must be very reg- 
ular to justify the actuary in speaking of mortality as 
governed by laws. And yet it is so. 

Indeed, there would seem to be no such thing as 
chance in the world. Man lives and dies in conformity 
to a law. A sparrow falls to the ground in obedience 
to a law. Nay, there are matters in the ordinary trans- 
actions of life, such as one might suppose were the mere 
result of chance, which are ascertained to be of remark- 
able accuracy when taken in the mass. For instance, 
the number of letters put in the post-office without an 
address, the number of letters wrongly directed, the 
number containing money, the number unstamped, con- 
tinue nearly the same, in relation to the number of let- 
ters posted, from one year to another. 

Now, it is the business of man to understand the laws 
of health, and to provide against their consequences; as, 
for instance, in the matter of sickness, accident, and 
premature death. We can not escape the consequences 
of transgression of the natural laws, though we may 
have meant well. We must have done well. The 
Creator does not alter his laws to accommodate them 
to our ignorance. He has furnished us with intelli- 
gence, so that we may understand them and act upon 
them: otherwise we must suffer the consequences in 
inevitable pain and sorrow. 



Will Nobody Help Us ? 593 

We often hear the cry raised, " Will nobody help 
us?" It is a spiritless, hopeless cry. It is sometimes 
a cry of revolting meanness, especially when it issues 
from those who, with a little self-denial, sobriety, and 
thrift, might easily help themselves. 

Many people have yet to learn that virtue, knowl- 
edge, freedom, and prosperity must spring from them- 
selves. Legislation can do very little for them: it can 
not make them sober, intelligent, and well-doing. The 
prime miseries of most men have their origin in causes 
far removed from Acts of Parliament. 

The spendthrift laughs at legislation. The drunkard 
defies it, and arrogates the right of dispensing with fore- 
thought and self-denial, throwing upon others the blame 
of his ultimate wretchedness. The mob orators, who 
gather " the millions" about them, are very wide of the 
mark, when, instead of seeking to train their crowds of 
hearers to habits of frugality, temperance, and self- 
culture, they encourage them to keep up the cry, " Will 
nobody help us?" 

The cry sickens the soul. It shows gross ignorance 
of the first elements of personal welfare. Help is in 
men themselves. They were born to help and ele- 
vate themselves. They must work out their own sal- 
vation. The poorest men have done it; why should 
not every man do it? The brave, upward spirit, ever 
conquers. 

The number of well-paid workmen in this country 
has become very large, who might easily save and 



594 Prosperous Times. 

economize to the improvement of their moral well-being-^ 
of their respectability and independence, and of their 
status in society as men and citizens. They are im- 
provident and thriftless to an extent which proves not 
less hurtful to their personal happiness and domestic 
comfort, than it is injurious to the society of which they 
form so important a part. 

In " prosperous times " they spend their gains reck- 
lessly; and when adverse times come they are at once 
plunged into misery. Money is not used, but abused; 
and when wage-earning people should be providing 
against old age, or for the wants of a growing family, 
they are, in too many cases, feeding folly, dissipation 
and vice. Let no one say that this is an exaggerated 
picture. It is enough to look round in any neighbor- 
hood, and see how much is spent and how little is 
saved; what a large proportion of earnings goes to the 
beer-shop, and how little to the savings-bank or the 
benefit society. 

" Prosperous times " are very often the least prosper- 
ous of all times. In prosperous times, mills are work- 
ing full time; men, women, and children are paid high 
wages; warehouses are emptied and filled; goods are 
manufactured and exported; wherries full of produce 
pass along the streets; immense luggage trains run 
along the railways, and heavily laden ships leave our 
shores daily for foreign ports, full of the products of 
our industry. Every body seems to be becoming richer 
and more prosperous. But we do not think of whether 



The Least Prosperous. 595 

men and women are becoming wiser, better trained, 
less self-indulgent, more religiously disposed, or living 
for any higher purpose than the satisfaction of the animal 
appetite. 

If this apparent prosperity be closely examined, it 
will be found that expenditure is increasing in all di- 
rections. There are demands for higher wages ; and the 
higher wages, when obtained, are spent as soon as earned. 
Intemperate habits are formed, and, once formed, the 
habit of intemperance continues. Increased wages, in- 
stead of being saved, are, for the most part spent in 
drink. 

Thus, when a population are thoughtless and improv- 
ident, no kind of material prosperity will benefit them. 
Unless they exercise forethought and economy, they 
will alternately be in a state of " hunger and burst.'" 
When trade falls off, as it usually does after exceptional 
prosperity, they will not be comforted by the thought 
of what they might have saved, had it ever occurred to 
them that the " prosperous times " might not have 
proved permanent. 

During prosperous times, Saint Mono\ay is regularly 
observed. The bank holiday is repeated weekly. 
"Where are all the workmen?' 1 said a master to his 
foreman, on going the rounds among his builders; 
"this work must be pushed on, and covered in while 
the fine weather lasts." " Why, sir," said the foreman, 
" this is Monday ; and they have not spent all their 
money yet." Dean Boyd, preaching at Exeter on be- 



596 National Prosperity. 

half of the Devonshire hospitals, expressed his belief 
that the annual loss to the work-people engaged in the 
woolen manufacture, the cotton trade, the brick-laying 
and building trade, by Idle Monday, amounted to over 
seven million sterling. 

If man's chief end were to manufacture cloth, silk, 
cotton, hardware, toys and china; to buy in the cheap- 
est market and to sell in the dearest; to cultivate land, 
grow corn, and graze cattle; to live for mere money 
profit, and hoard or spend as the case might be, we 
might then congratulate ourselves upon our national 
prosperity. But is this the chief end of man? Has 
he not faculties, affections, and sympathies, besides 
muscular organs? Has not his mind and heart certain 
claims, as well as his mouth and his back? Has he 
not a soul as well as a stomach? And ought not 
" prosperity " to include the improvement and well-being 
of his morals and intellect as well as of his bones and 
muscles ? 

Mere money is no indication of prosperit}^. A man's 
nature may remain the same. It may even grow more 
stunted and deformed, while he is doubling his expendi- 
ture, or adding cent, per cent, to his hoards yearly. 
It is the same with the mass. The increase of their 
gains may merely furnish them with increased means 
for gratifying animal indulgences, unless their moral 
character keeps pace with their physical advancement, 
Double the gains of an uneducated, overworked man, 
in a time of prosperity, and what is the result? Sim- 



Moral Independence* 597 

ply that you have furnished him with the means of 
eating and drinking more! Thus, not even the mate- 
rial well-being of the population is secured by that 
condition of things which is defined by political econo- 
mists as u national prosperity." And so long as the 
moral elements of the question are ignored, this kind of 
" prosperity " is, we believe, calculated to produce far 
more mischievious results than good. It is knowledge 
and virtue alone that can confer dignity on a man's life; 
and the growth of such qualities in a nation is the 
only true mark of its real prosperity; not the infinite 
manufacture and sale of cotton prints, toys, hardware, 
and crockery. 

The Bishop of Manchester, when preaching at a har- 
vest thanksgiving near Preston, referred to a letter 
which he had received from a clergyman in the South 
of England, who, after expressing his pleasure at the 
fact that the agricultural laborers were receiving higher 
wages, lamented " that at present the only result he 
could discover from their higher wages was that a 
great deal more beer was consumed. If this was the 
use we were making of this prosperity, we could hardly 
call it a blessing for which we had a right or ground to 
thank God. The true prosperity in the nation con- 
sisted not so much in the fact that the nation was grow- 
ing in wealth — though wealth was a necessary attribute 
of prosperity — but that it was growing in virtue; and 
that there was a more equable distribution of comfort, 
contentment, and the things of this lower world." 



598 What Thrift Requires. 

In making the preceding observations, we do not in 
the least advocate the formation of miserly, penurious 
habits; for we hate the scrub, the screw, the miser. 
All that we contend for is, that men should provide for 
the future; that they should provide during good times 
for the bad times which almost invariably follow them; 
that they should lay by a store of savings as a break- 
water against want, and make sure of a little fund which 
may maintain them in old age, secure their self-respect, 
and add to their personal comfort and social well-being. 
Thrift is not in any way connected with avarice, usury, 
greed, or selfishness. It is, in fact, the very reverse of 
these disgusting dispositions. It means economy for 
the purpose of securing independence. Thrift requires 
that money should be used, and not abused — that it 
should be honestly earned and economically employed — 

" Not for to put it in a hedge, 

Not for a train attendant — 
But for the glorious privilege 

Of being Independent." 







CHAPTER XLVI. 

LITTLE THINGS. 

Luck and Labor.— Neglect of Little Things.— "It will Do!"— Spending of 
Pennies.— The Thrifty Woman.— A Helpful Wife.^A Man's Daily Life. 
— The Two Workmen. — Rights and Habits.— Influence of the Wife. — A 
Penny a Day. — The Power of a Penny.— Roads and Railways.— Business 
Maxims. 

" Know when to spend and when to spare, 
And when to buy, and thou shalt ne'er be bare." 
"He that despiseth little things, shall perish by little and little." — Pro- 
verbs of Solomon. 

/* 

"V EGLECT of small things is the rock on which 
J ^ the great majority of the human race have split. 
Human life consists of a succession of small events, 
each of which is comparatively unimportant, and yet the 
happiness and success of every man depend upon the 
manner in which these small events are dealt with. 
Character is built up on little things — little things well 
and honorably transacted. The success of a man in 
business depends on his attention to little things. The 
comfort of a household is the result of small things well 
arranged and duly provided for. Good government 
can only be accomplished in the same way — by well- 
regulated provisions for the doing of little things. 

Accumulations of knowledge and experience of the 

599 



600 Luck and Labor. 

most valuable kind are the result of little bits of knowl- 
edge and experience carefully treasured up. Those who 
learn nothing, or accumulate nothing in life, are set 
down as failures, because they have neglected little 
things. They may themselves consider that the world 
has gone against them; but in fact, they have been their 
own enemies. There has long been a popular belief in 
"good luck;" but, like many other popular notions, it 
is gradually giving way. The conviction is extending 
that diligence is the mother of good luck; in other 
words, that a man's success in life will be proportionate 
to his efforts, to his industry, to his attention to small 
things. Your negligent, shiftless, loose fellows never 
meet with luck ; because the results of industry are de- 
nied to those who will not use the proper efforts to se- 
cure them. 

It is not luck, but labor, that makes men. Luck, says 
an American writer, is ever waiting for something to 
turn up; Labor, with keen eye and strong will, always 
turns up something. Luck lies in bed, and wishes the 
postman would bring him news of a legacy; Labor 
turns out at six, and with busy pen or ringing hammer 
lays the foundation of a competence. Luck whines; 
Labor whistles. Luck relies on chance; Labor, on 
character. Luck slips downward to self-indulgence; 
Labor strides upward, and aspires to independence. 

There are many little things in the household, atten- 
tion to which is indispensable to health and happiness. 
Cleanliness consists in attention to a number of appa- 



JSfi > gleet of Little Things. (501 

rent trifles — the scrubbing of a floor, the dusting of a 
chair, the cleansing of a tea- cup; but the general result 
of the whole is an atmosphere of moral and physical 
well-being — a condition favorable to the highest growth 
of human character. The kind of air which circulates 
in a house may seem a small matter, for we can not 
see the air, and few people know any thing about it; 
yet if we do not provide a regular supply of pure air 
within our houses, we shall inevitably suffer for our 
neglect. A few specks of dirt may seem neither here 
nor there, and a closed door or window would appear 
to make little difference; but it may make the differ- 
ence of a life destroyed by fever; and therefore the lit- 
tle dirt and the little bad air are really very serious 
matters. The whole of the household regulations are, 
taken by themselves, trifles, but trifles tending to an 
important result. 

A pin is a very little thing in an article of dress, but 
the way in which it is put into the dress often reveals 
to you the character of the wearer. A shrewd fellow 
was once looking out for a wife, and was on a visit to 
a family of daughters with this object. The fair one, 
of whom he was partially enamored, one day entered 
the room in which he was seated, with her dress par- 
tially unpinned and her hair untidy: he never went 
back. You may say, such a fellow was "not worth a 
pin;" but he was really a shrewd fellow, and afterward 
made a good husband. He judged of women as of men 
by little things; and he was right. 



602 Neglect of Little Things. 

A druggist advertised for an assistant, and he had 
applications from a score of young men. He invited 
them all to come to his shop at the same time, and set 
them each to make up a pennyworth of salts into a 
packet. He selected the one that did this little thing 
in the neatest and most expert manner. He inferred 
their general practical ability from their performance 
of this smallest bit of business. 

Neglect of little things has ruined many fortunes and 
marred the best of enterprises. The ship which bore 
home the merchant's treasure was lost because it was 
allowed to leave the port from which it sailed with a 
very little hole in the bottom. For want of a nail, the 
shoe of the aid-de-camp's horse was lost; for want of 
the shoe, the horse was lost; for want of the horse, the 
aid-de-camp himself was lost, for the enemy took him 
and killed him; and for want of the aid-de-camp's in- 
telligence, the arm) 7 of his general was lost. And all 
because a little nail had not been properly fixed in a 
horse's shoe! 

u It will do!" is the common phrase of those who neg- 
lect little things. " It will do!" has blighted many a 
character, blasted many a fortune, sunk many a ship, 
burned down many a house, and irretrieveably ruined 
thousands of hopeful projects of human good. It alwa}'s 
means stopping short of the right thing. It is a make- 
shift. It is a failure and defeat. Not what " will do," 
but what is the best possible thing to do, is the point to 
be aimed at! Let a man once adopt the maxim of 



«M will do!" 603 

*' It will do," and he is given over to the enemy; he is 
on the side of incompetency and defeat; and we give 
him up as a hopeless subject ! 

M. Say, the French political economist, has related 
the following illustration of the neglect of little things : 
Once, at a farm in the country, there was a gate inclos- 
ing the cattle and poultry, which was constantly swing- 
ing open for want of a proper latch. The expenditure 
of a penny or two, and a few minutes time, would have 
made all right. It was on the swing every time a per- 
son went out, and not being in a state to shut readily, 
many of the poultry were from time to time lost. One 
day a fine young porker made his escape, and the whole 
family, with the gardener, cook, and milkmaid, turned 
out in quest of the fugitive. The gardener was the first 
to discover the pig, and, in leaping a ditch to cut off 
his escape, got a sprain that kept him to his bed for a 
fortnight. The cook, on her return to the farm-house, 
found the linen burned that she had hung up before the 
fire to dry; and the milkmaid having forgotten, in her 
haste, to tie up the cattle in the cow-house, one of the 
loose cows had broken the leg of a colt that happened 
to be kept in the same shed. The linen burned and the 
gardener's work lost were worth full five pounds, and 
the colt worth nearly double that money: so that here 
was a loss in a few minutes of a large sum, purely for 
want of a little latch which might have been supplied 
for a few half-pence. 

Life is full of illustrations of a similar kind. When 



604 Spending of Pennies. 

small things are habitually neglected, ruin is not far 
off. It is the hand of the diligent that maketh rich; 
and the diligent man or woman is attentive to small 
things as well as great. The things may appear very 
little and insignificant, yet attention to them is as nee- 
sary as to matters of greater moment. 

Take, for instance, the humblest of coins — a penny. 
What is the use of that little piece of copper — a solitary 
penny? What can it buy? Of what use is it? It is 
half the price of a glass of beer. It is the price of a box 
of matches. It is only fit for giving to a beggar. And 
yet how much of human happiness depends upon the 
spending of the penny well ! 

A man may work hard, and earn high wages; but 
if he allow the pennies, which are the result of hard 
work, to slip out of his fingers — some going to the beer- 
shop, some this way, and some that — he will find that 
his life of hard work is little raised above a life of animal 
drudgery. On the other hand, if he take care of the 
pennies, putting some weekly into a benefit society or 
an insurance fund, others into a savings bank, and con- 
fide the rest to his wife to be carefully laid out, with a 
view to the comfortable maintenance and culture of his 
family, he will soon find that his attention to small 
matters will abundantly repay him, in increasing means, 
in comfort at home, and in a mind comparatively free 
from fears as to the future. 

All savings are made up of little things. " Many a 
little makes a mickle." Many a penny makes a pound.. 



The Thrifty Woman. 605 

A penny saved is the seed of pounds saved. And 
pounds saved means comfort, plenty, wealth, and inde- 
pendence. But the penny must be earned honestly. 
It is said that a penny earned honestly is better than a 
shilling given. A Scotch proverb says, " The gear that 
is gifted is never sae sweet as the gear that is won. 1 ' 
What though the penny be black? u The smith and his 
penny are both black.'" But the penny earned by the 
smith is an honest one. 

If a man does not know how to save his pennies or 
his pounds, his nose will always be kept to the grind- 
stone. Want may come upon him any day, " like an 
armed man." Careful saving acts like magic: once 
begun it grows into a habit. It gives a man a feeling 
of satisfaction, of strength, of security. The pennies 
he has put aside in his savings-box, or in the savings- 
bank, give him an assurance of comfort in sickness, or 
of rest in old age. The man who saves has something to 
weather-fend him against want ; while the man who saves 
not has nothing between him and bitter, biting poverty. 

A man may be disposed to save money, and lay it 
by for sickness or for other purposes; but he can not 
do this unless his wife lets him, or helps him. A pru- 
dent, frugal, thrifty woman is a crown of glory to her 
husband. She helps him in all his good resolutions; 
she may by quiet and gentle encouragement, bring out 
his better qualities; and by her example she many im- 
plant in him noble principles, which are the seeds of the 
highest practical virtues. 



606 A Helpful Wife. 

The Rev. Mr. Owen, formerly of Bilston — a good 
friend and adviser of working-people — used to tell a 
story of a man who was not an economist, but was en- 
abled to become so by the example of his wife. The 
man was a calico-printer at Manchester, and he was 
persuaded by his wife, on their wedding-day, to allow 
her two half-pints of ale a day, as her share. He rather 
winced at the bargain, for, though a drinker himself he 
would have preferred a perfectly sober wife. They both 
worked hard ; and he, poor man, was seldom out of the 
public-house as soon as the factory work was closed. 

She had her daily pint, and he, perhaps, had his two 
or three quarts, and neither interfered with the other; 
except that, at odd times, she succeeded by dint, of 
one little gentle artifice or another, to win him home 
an hour or two earlier at night; and now and then, to 
spend an entire evening in his own house. They had 
been married a year, and on the morning of their wed- 
ding anniversary, the husband looked askance at her 
neat and comely person with some shade of remorse, 
as he said, " Mary, we've had no holiday since we were 
wed; and, only that I have not a penny in the world, we'd 
take a jaunt down to the village to see the mother." 

" Wouldst like to go, John?" said she, softly, between 
a smile and a tear, so glad to hear him speak so kindly 
— so like old times. " If thee'd like to go, John, I'll 
stand treat." 

" Thou stand treat!" said he, with half a sneer: " hast 
got a for tun, wench?" 



A Helpful Wife, 607 

" Nay," said she, " but I've gotten the pint o' ale." 

" Gotten what?" said he. 

" The pint o' ale!" said she. 

John still didn't understand her, till the faithful 
creature reached down an old stocking from under a 
loose brick up the chimney, and counted out her daily 
pint of ale in the shape of three hundred and sixty-five 
threepence, i. e., four pounds four shillings and six-pence r 
and put them into his hand, exclaiming, " Thou shalt 
have thee holiday, John!" 

John was ashamed, astonished, conscience-stricken, 
charmed, and wouldn't touch it. " Hasn't thee had 
thy share? Then I'll ha' no more!" he said. He kept 
his word. They kept their wedding-day with mother; 
and the wife's little capital was the nucleus of a series 
of frugal investments, that ultimately swelled out into a 
shop, a factory, warehouses, a country-seat, carriage, 
and, perhaps, a Liverpool mayor. 

In the same way, a workman of even the humblest 
sort, whose prosperity and regularity of conduct show 
to his fellow-workmen what industry, temperance, man- 
ly tenderness, and superiority to low and sensual temp- 
tation can effect, in endearing a home which is bright 
even amidst the gloom of poverty — such a man does 
good as well as the most eloquent writer that ever 
wrote. If there were a few patriarchs of the people 
such as this, their beneficial influence would soon be 
sensibly felt by society at large. A life well spent is 
worth any number of speeches; for example is a lan~ 



608 A Man's Daily Life. 

guage far more eloquent than words: it is instruction 
in action — wisdom at work. 

A man's daily life is the best test of his moral and 
social state. Take two men, for instance, both working 
at the same trade and earning the same money; yet 
how different they may be as respects their actual con- 
dition! The one looks a free man; the other a slave. 
The one lives in a snug cottage; the other in a mnd 
hovel. The one has always a decent coat to his back ; 
the other is in rags. The children of the one are clean, 
well-dressed, and at school; the children of the other 
are dirty, filthy, and often in the gutter. The one pos- 
sesses the ordinary comforts of life, as well as many of 
its pleasures and conveniences — perhaps a well-chosen 
library; the other has few of the comforts of life, cer- 
tainly no pleasures, enjoyments, nor books. And yet 
these two men earn the same wages. What is the cause 
of the difference between them? 

It is in this: The one man is intelligent and prudent; 
the other is the reverse. The one denies himself for 
the benefit of his wife, his family, and his home; the 
other denies himself nothing, but lives under the tyran- 
ny of evil habits. The one is a sober man, and takes 
pleasure in making his home attractive and his family 
comfortable; the other cares nothing for his home and 
family, but spends the greater part of his earnings in 
the gin-shop or the public-house. The one man looks 
up; the other looks down. The standard of enjoy- 
ment of the one is high, and of the other low. The 



The Influence of the Wife. 609 

one man likes books, which instruct and elevate his 
mind; the other likes drink, which tends to lower and 
brutalize him. The one saves his money; the other 
wastes it. 

The root of all domestic prosperity, the main-stay of 
all domestic comfort, is the wife. There can be no 
thrift, nor economy, nor comfort at home, unless the 
wife helps; and a working-man's wife, more than any 
other man's, for she is wife, housekeeper, nurse, and 
servant, all in one. If she be thriftless, putting money 
into her hands is like pouring water through a sieve. 
Let her be frugal, arid she will make her home a place 
of comTort, and she will also make her husband's life 
happy, if she do not lay the foundation of his prosperity 
and fortune. 

Method is the hinge of business; and there is no 
method without punctuality. Punctuality is important, 
because it subserves the peace and good temper of a 
family. The want of it not only infringes on necessary 
duty, but sometimes excludes this duty. The calmness 
of mind which it produces is another advantage of 
punctuality. A disorderly man is always in a hurry. 
He has no time to speak to you because he is 'going 
elsewhere ; and when he gets there, he is too late for his 
business, or he must hurry away to another before he 
can finish it. Punctuality gives weight to character. 



39 



CHAPTER XLVII. 

COMPANIONSHIP IN MARRIAGE. 

Character Influenced by Marriage.— Mutual Relations of Man and Woman c . 
— Views of Woman's Character. — Early Education of the Sexes. — 
Womans Affectionateness. — The Sentiment of Love. — Love an Inspirer 
and Purifier. — Man in the Home. — The Golden Rule in Marriage. 

" Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, 

Shall win my love." — Shakspeare. 
"In. the husband Wisdom, in the wife Gentleness." 

George Herbert. 

" Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. . 
. . Her husband is known in the gates, and he sitteth among the elders 
of the land." 

M\HE character of men, as of women, is powerfully 
^ influenced by their companionship in all the stages 
of life. We have already spoken of the influence of the 
mother in forming the character of her children. She 
makes the moral atmosphere in which they live, and by 
which their minds and souls are nourished, as their 
bodies are by the physical atmosphere they breathe. 
And while woman is the natural cherisher of infancy 
and the instructor of childhood, she is also the guide 
and counsellor of youth, and the confidant and compan- 
ion of manhood, in her various relations of mother, sis- 
ter, lover, and wife. In short, the influence of woman 

610 



The Mission of Man and Woman. 611 

more or less affects, for good or for evil, the - entire 
destinies of man. 

The respective social functions and duties of men and 
woman are clearly defined by nature. God created man 
and woman, each to do their proper work, each to fill 
their proper sphere. Neither can occupy the position, 
nor perform the functions, of the other. Their several 
vocations are perfectly distinct. Woman exists on her 
own account, as man does on his, at the same time that 
each has intimate relations with the other. Humanity 
needs both for the purposes of the race, and in every 
consideration of social progress both must necessarily 
be included. 

Though companions and equals, yet, as regards the 
measure of their powers, they are unequal. Man is 
stronger, more muscular, and of rougher fibre; woman 
is more delicate, sensitive and nervous. The one excels 
in power of brain, the other in qualities of heart ; and 
though the head may rule, it is the heart that influences. 
Both are alike adapted for the respective functions they 
have to perform in life; and to attempt to impose 
woman's work upon man would be quite as absurd as 
to attempt to impose man's work upon woman. Men 
are sometimes woman-like, and women are sometimes 
man-like; but these are only exceptions which prove 
the rule. 

Although man's qualities belong more to the head, 
and woman's more to the heart, yet it is not less neces- 
sary that man's heart should be cultivated as well as 



612 The Mission of Man and Woman* 

his head, and woman's head cultivated as well as her 
heart. A heartless man is as much out of keeping in 
civilized society as a stupid and unintelligent woman. 
The cultivation of all parts of the moral and intellectual 
nature is requisite to form the man or woman of healthy 
and well-balanced character. Without sympathy or 
consideration for others, man were a poor, stunted, sor- 
did, selfish being; and without cultivated intelligence, 
the most beautiful woman weie little better than a well- 
dressed doll. 

It used to be a favorite notion about woman that her 
weakness and dependency upon others constituted her 
principal claim to admiration. If we were to form an 
image of dignity in a man,' 1 said Sir. Richard Steele, 
" we should give him wisdom and valor, as being essen- 
tial to the character of manhood. In like manner, if 
you describe a right woman in a laudable sense, she 
should have gentle softness, tender fear, and all those 
parts of life which distinguish her from the other sex, 
with some subordination to it, but an inferiority which 
makes her lovely." Thus, her weakness was to be cul- 
tivated, rather than her strength; her folly, rather than 
her wisdom. She was to be a weak, fearful, tearful, 
characterless, inferior creature, with just sense enough 
to understand the soft nothings addressed to her by the 
" superior " sex. She was to be educated as an orna- 
mental appanage of man, rather as an independent 
intelligence — or as a wife, mother, companion, or friend. 

Pope, in one of his "Moral Essays," asserts that ♦ 



Views of Woman's Character. 613 

" most women have no characters at all;" and again he 
says : 

" Ladies, like variegated tulips, show, 
Tis to their changes half their charms we owe, 
Fine by defect and delicately weak." 

This satire characteristically occurs in the poet's 
" Epistle to Martha Blount," the housekeeper who so 
tyrannically ruled him; and in the same verses he 
spitefully girds at Lady Mary Wortly Montague, at 
whose feet he had thrown himself as a lover, and been 
contemptuously rejected. But Pope was no judge of 
women, nor was he even a very wise or tolerant judge 
of men. 

It is still too much the practice to cultivate the weak- 
ness of woman rather than her strength, and to render 
her attractive rather than self-reliant. Her sensibilities 
are developed at the expense of her health of body as 
well as mind. She lives, moves, and has her being, in 
the sympathy of others. She dresses that she may 
attract, and is burdened with accomplishments that she 
may be chosen. Weak, trembling, and dependent, she 
incurs the risk of becoming a living embodiment of 
the Italian proverb — " so good that she is good for 
nothing." 

On the other hand, the education of } ; oung men too 
often errs on the side of selfishness. While the boy is 
encouraged to trust mainly to his own efforts in push- 
ing his way in the world, the girl is encouraged to rely 
almost entirely upon others. He is educated with too 



614 Early Education of Both Sexes. 

exclusive reference to himself, and she is educated with 
too exclusive reference to him. He is taught to be 
self-reliant and self-dependent, while she is taught to be 
distrustful of herself, dependent, and self-sacrificing in 
all things. Thus the intellect of the one is cultivated 
at the expense of the affections, and the affections of 
the other at the expense of the intellect. 

It is unquestionable that the highest qualities of wo- 
man are displayed in her relationship to others, through 
the medium of her affections. She is the nurse whom 
nature has given to all humankind. She takes charge 
of the helpless, and nourishes and cherishes those we 
love. She is the presiding genius of the fireside, where 
she creates an atmosphere of serenity and contentment 
suitable for the nurture and growth of character in its 
best forms. She is by her very constitution compassion- 
ate, gentle, patient, and self-denying. Loving, hopeful, 
trustful, her eye sheds brightness everywhere. It shines 
upon coldness and warms it, upon suffering and relieves 
it, upon sorrow and cheers it: 



"Her silver flow 
Of subtle-paced counsel in distress, 

Right to the heart and brain, though undeseried, 
Winning its way with extreme gentleness 

Through all the outworks of suspicion's pride." 



Woman has been styled the angel of the unfortunate. 
She is ready to help the weak, to raise the fallen, to 
comfort the suffering. It was characteristic of woman 
that she should have been the first to build and endow 



Woman's Affectionateness. . 615 

i 
a hospital. It has been said that wherever a human 

being is in suffering his sighs call a woman to his side. 
When Mungo Park, lonely, friendless, and famished, 
after being driven forth from an African village by the 
men, was preparing to spend the night under a tree, 
exposed to the rain and the wild beasts which there 
abounded, a poor negro woman, returning from the la- 
bors of the field, took compassion upon him, conducted 
him into her hut, and there gave him food, and succor, 
and shelter. 

But while the most characteristic qualities of woman 
are displayed through her sympathies and affections, it 
is also necessary for her own happiness, as a self-de- 
pendent being, to develop and strengthen her charac- 
ter, by due self-culture, self-reliance, and self-control. 
It is not desirable, even were it possible, to close the 
beautiful avenues of the heart. Self-reliance of the best 
kind does not involve any limitation in the range jof 
human sympathy. But the happiness of woman, as of 
man, depends in a great measure upon her individual 
completeness of character. And that self-dependence 
which springs from the due cultivation of the intellec- 
tual powers, conjoined with a proper discipline of the 
heart and conscience, will enable her to be more useful 
in life as well as happy; to dispense blessings intelligent- 
ly as well as to enjoy them ; and most of all those which 
spring from mutual dependence and social sympathy. 

And here we would venture to touch upon a delicate 
topic. Though it is one of universal and engrossing 



616 The Sentiment of Love* 

human interest, the moralist avoids it, the educator 
shuns it, and parents taboo it. It is almost considered 
indelicate to refer to Love as between the sexes; and 
young readers are left to gather their only notions of it 
from the impossible love-stories that fill the shelves of 
circulating libraries. 

" Love," it has been said, in the common accepta- 
tion of the term, is folly; but love, in its purity, its lof- 
tiness, its unselfishness, is not only ajconsequence, but 
a proof, of our moral excellence. The sensibility to 
moral beauty, the forgetfulness of self in the admiration 
engendered by it, all prove its claim to a high moral 
influence. It is the triumph of the unselfish over' the 
selfish part of our nature." 

It is by means of this divine passion that the world 
is kept ever fresh and young. It is the perpetual mel- 
ody of humanity. It sheds an effulgence upon youth, 
and throws a halo round age. It glorifies the present 
by the light it casts backward, and it lightens the fu- 
ture by the beams it casts forward. 

" No true and enduring love," says Fichte, " can 
exist without esteem; every other draws regret after it, 
and is unworthy of any noble human soul." 

But there is something far more than mere respect 
and esteem in the union between man and wife. " In 
matters of affection," says Nathaniel Hawthorne, 
" there is always an impassible gulf between man and 
man. They can never quite grasp each other's hands, 
and therefore man never derives any intimate help, any 



Man in the Home- 617 

heart-sustenance, from his brother man, but from wo- 
man — his mother, his sister, or his wife." 

A man's real character will always be more visible 
in his household than anywhere else; and his practical 
wisdom will be better exhibited by the manner, in which 
he bears rule there than even in the larger affairs of 
business or public life. His whole mind may be in his 
business; but, if he would be happy, his whole heart 
must be in his home. 

What a happy man must Edmund Burke have been, 
when he could say of his home, " Every care vanishes 
the moment I enter under my own roof!" And Luther, 
a man full of human affection, speaking of his wife, said, 
" I would not exchange my poverty with her for all the 
riches of Crcesus without her." 

The golden rule of married life is, u Bear and for- 
bear." Marriage, like government, is a series of com- 
promises. One must give and take, refrain and re- 
strain, endure and be patient. One may not be blind 
to another's failings, but they may at least be borne 
with good-natured forbearance. Of all qualities, good 
temper is the one that wears and works the best in 
married life. Conjoined with self-control, it gives pa- 
tience — the patience to bear and forbear, to listen with- 
out retort, to refrain until the angry flash has passed. 
How true it is in marriage that " the soft answer turn- 
eth away wrath!" 



CHAPTER XLVIII. 



MANNER. 



Manner the Grace of Character. — Influence of Manner. — Politeness. — "Eti- 
quette." — True Courtesy. — Practical Unpoliteness. — Indications of Self- 
respect. 

"We must be gentle, now we are gentlemen." — Shakspeare. 

"Manners are often too much neglected; they are most important to 
men, no less than to women. . . . Life is too short to get over a bad man- 
ner ; besides, manners are the shadows of virtues." 

Rev. Sydney Smith. 

MANNER is one of the principal external graces 
of character. It is the ornament of action, and 
often makes the commonest offices beautiful by the way 
in which it performs them. It is a happy way of doing 
things, adorning even the smallest details of life, and 
contributing to render it, as a whole, agreeable and 
pleasant. 

Manner is not so frivolous or unimportant as some 
may think it to be; for it tends greatly to facilitate the 
business of life, as well as to sweeten and soften social 
intercourse. " Virtue itself," says Bishop Middleton, 
" offends, when coupled with a forbidding manner." 

Manner has a good deal to do with the estimation in 
which men are held by the world; and it has often 

618 



Power of Manner, 619 

more influence in the government of others than quali- 
ties of much greater depth and substance. A manner 
at once gracious and cordial is among the greatest aids 
to success, and many there are who fail for want of it; 
for a great deal depends upon first impressions; and 
these are usually favorable or otherwise according to a 
man's courteousness and civility. 

While rudeness and gruffness bar doors and shut 
hearts, kindness and propriety of behavior, in which 
good manners consist, act as an "open sesame" every- 
where. Doors unbar before them, and they are a pass- 
port to the hearts of every body, young and old. 

There is a common saying that " Manners make the 
man;" but this is not so true as that " Man makes the 
manners." A man may be gruff, and even rude, and 
yet be good at heart and of sterling character; yet he 
would doubtless be a much more agreeable, and proba* 
bly a much more useful man, were he to exhibit that 
suavity of disposition and courtesy of manner which al- 
ways gives a finish to the true gentleman. 

A man's manner, to a certain extent, indicates his 
character. It is the external exponent of his inner na- 
ture. It indicates his taste, his feelings, and his tem- 
per, as well as the society to which he has been accus- 
tomed. There is a conventional manner, which is of 
comparatively little importance; but the natural man- 
ner, the outcome of natural gifts, improved by careful 
self-culture, signifies a great deal. 

Artificial rules of politeness are of very little use. 



620 Politeness — "Etiquette" 

What passes by the name of " Etiquette" is often of the 
essence of impoliteness and untruthfulness. It consists 
in a great measure of posture-making, and is easily seen 
through. Even at best, etiquette is but a substitute for 
good manners, though it is often but their mere counterfeit. 

Good manners consist, for the most part in courteous- 
ness and kinkness. Politeness has been described as 
the art of showing, by external signs, the internal 
regard we have for others. But one may be perfectly 
polite to another without necessarily having a special 
regard for him. Good manners are neither more nor 
less than beautiful behavior. It has been well said that 
" a beautiful form is better than a beautiful face, and a 
beautiful behavior is better than a beautiful form; it 
gives a higher pleasure than statues or pictures — it is 
the finest of the fine arts." 

The truest politeness comes of sincerity. It must be 
the outcome of the heart, or it will make no lasting 
impression; for no amount of polish can dispense with 
truthfulness. The natural character must be allowed to 
appear, freed of its angularities and asperities. Though 
politeness, in its best form, should (as St. Francis de 
Sales says) resemble water — " best when clearest, most 
simple, and without taste " — yet genius in a man will 
always cover many defects of manner, and much will 
be excused to the strong and the original. Without 
genuineness and individuality, human life would lose 
much of its interest and variety, as well as its manliness 
and robustness of character. 



True Courtesy. 621 

True courtesy is kind. It exhibits itself in the dispo- 
sition to contribute to the happiness of others, and in 
refraining from all that may annoy them. It is grate- 
ful as well as kind, and readily acknowledges kind 
actions. 

True politeness especially exhibits itself in regard 
for the personality of others. A man will respect the 
individuality of another if he wishes to be respected 
himself. He will have due regard for his views and 
opinions, even though they differ from his own. The 
well-mannered man pays a compliment to another, and 
sometimes even secures his respect, by patiently listen- 
ing to him. He is simply tolerant and forbearant, and 
refrains from judging harshly; and harsh judgments of 
others will almost invariably provoke harsh judgments 
of ourselves. 

It has been said that men succeed in life quite as 
much by their temper as by their talents. However 
this may be it is certain that their happiness depends 
mainly on their temperament, especially upon their dis- 
position to be cheerful; upon their complaisance, kind- 
liness of manner, and willingness to oblige others — de- 
tails of conduct which are like the small change in the 
intercourse of life, and are always in request. 

Men may show their disregard of others in various 
unpolite ways — as, for instance, by neglect of propriety 
in dress, by the absence of cleanliness, or by indulging 
in repulsive habits. The slovenly, dirty person, byren- ' 
dering himself physically disagreeable, sets the tastes 



622 Practical Unpoliteness. 

and feelings of others at defiance, and is rude and uncivil., 
only under another form. 

The perfection of manner is ease — that it attracts no 
man's notice as such, but is natural and unaffected. 
Artifice is incompatible with courteous frankness of 
manner. Rochefoucauld has said that " nothing so 
much prevents our being natural as the desire of ap- 
pearing so." Thus we come round again to sincerity 
and truthfulness which find their outward expression 
in graciousness, urbanity, kindliness, and consideration 
for the feelings of others. The frank and cordial man 
sets those about him at their ease. He warms and ele- 
vates them by his presence, and wins all hearts. Thus 
manner, in its highest form, like character, becomes a 
genuine motive power. 

Good manners are usually supposed to be the peculiar 
characteristic of persons gently born and bred, and of 
persons moving in the higher rather than in the lower 
spheres of society. And this is no doubt to a great 
extent true, because of the more favorable surroundings 
of the former in early life. But there is no reason why 
the poorest classes should not practice good manners 
towards each other as well as the richest. 



C^W 



CM 



w 



CHAPTER XLIX. 

COMPANIONSHIP OF BOOKS. 



Men are Known by the Books They Read. — G-ood Books the Best Society. — 
Interest of Biography. — The Great Lesson of Biography. — The Book of 
Books. — History and Biography. — Books the Inspirers of Youth. 

"Books, we know, 
Are a substantial world, both pure and good, 
Round which, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, 
Our pastime and our happiness can grow." — Wordsworth. 

"G-ood books are pearl and gold." — Coburn. 

"Not only in the common speech of men, but in all art too — which is or 
should be the concentrated and conserved essence of what men can speak 
and show — Biography is almost the one thing needful." — Carlyle. 



MAN may usually be known by the books he 
reads, as well as by the company he keeps; for 
there is a companionship of books as well as of men; 
and one should always live in the best company, whether 
it be of books or of men. 

A good book may be among the best of friends. It 
is the same to-day that it always was, and it will never 
change. It is the most patient and cheerful of* com- 
panions. It does not turn its back upon us in times of 
adversity or distress. It always receives us with the 
same kindness; amusing and instructing us in youth, 
and comforting and consoling us in age. 

623 



624 Companionship of Books. 

Men often discover their affinity to each other by the 
mutual love they have for a book — just as two persons 
sometimes discover a friend by the admiration which 
both entertain for a third. There is an old proverb, 
" Love me, love my dog." But there is more wisdom 
in this: " Love me, love my book." The book is a 
truer and higher bond of union. Men can think, feel, 
and sympathize with each other through their favorite 
author. They live in him together, and he in them. 

Books introduce us into the best society; they bring 
us into the presence of the greatest minds that have 
ever lived. We hear what they said and did; we see 
them as if they were really alive; we are participators 
in their thoughts ; we sympathize with them, enjoy with 
them, grieve with them ; their experience becomes ours, 
and we feel as if we were in a measure actors with them 
in the scenes which they describe. 

The great and good do not die, even in this world. 
Embalmed in books, their spirits walk abroad. The 
book is a living voice. It is an intellect to which one 
still listens. Hence we ever remain under the influence 
of the great men of old. 

The imperial intellects of the world are as much 
alive now as they were ages ago. Homer still lives; and 
though his personal history is hidden in the mists of 
antiquity, his poems are as fresh to-day as if they had 
been newly written. Plato still teaches his transcend- 
ent philosophy ; Horace, Virgil, and Dante still sing as 
when they lived ; Shakspeare is not dead ; his body was 




HEADING- THE BIBLE— PERSECUTION, 

ENGRAVED FOR HOMES. 



Interest in Biography. 625 

buried in 1616, but his mind is as much alive in England 
now, and his thought as far-reaching, as in the time of 
the Tudors. 

Great, indeed, is the human interest felt in biography ! 
What are all the novels that find such multitudes of 
readers, but so many ficticious biographies ? What are 
the dramas that people crowd to see, but so much acted 
biography? Strange that the highest genius should be 
employed on the ficticious biography, and so much 
commonplace ability on the real! 

The great lesson of biography is to show what man 
can be and do at his best. A noble life put fairly on 
record acts like an inspiration to others. It exhibits 
what life is capable of being made. It refreshes our 
spirit, encourages our hopes, gives us new strength and 
courage and faith — faith in others as well as in ourselves. 
It stimulates our aspirations, rouses us to action, and 
incites us to become co-partners with them in their 
work. To live with such men in their biographies, and 
to be inspired b}^ their example, is to live with the best 
of men and to mix in the best of company. 

At the head of all biographies stands the Great 
Biography — the Book of Books. And what is the Bible, 
the most sacred and impressive of all books — the edu- 
cator of youth, the guide of manhood, and the consoler 
of age — but a series of biographies of great heroes and 
patriarchs, prophets, kings, and judges culminating in 
the greatest biography of all — the Life embodied in the 
New Testament ? How much have the great examples 
40 



626 History and Biography. 

there set forth done for mankind! How many have 
drawn from them their best strength, their highest wis- 
dom, their best nurture and admonition! 

History itself is best studied in biography. Indeed, 
history is biography — collective humanity as influenced 
and governed by individual men. " What is all history," 
says Emerson, u but the work of ideas, a record of the 
incomparable energy which his infinite aspirations in- 
fuse into man?" In its pages it is always persons we 
see more than principles. Historical events are inter- 
esting to us mainly in connection with the feelings, the 
sufferings, and interests of those by whom they are ac- 
complished. In history we are surrounded by men long 
dead, but whose speech and whose deeds survive. We 
almost catch the sound of their voices; and what they 
did constitutes the interest of history. 

While books are among the best companions of old 
age, they are often the best inspirers of youth. The 
first book that makes a deep impression on a young 
man's mind often constitutes an epoch in his life. It 
may fire the heart, stimulate the enthusiasm, and, by 
directing his efforts, into unexpected channels, perma- 
nently influence his character. The new book, in which 
we form an intimacy with a new friend, whose mind is 
wiser^ and riper than our own, may thus form an im- 
portant starting-point in the history of a life. It may 
sometimes almost be regarded in the light of a new 
birth. 

The True Gentleman is one whose nature has been. 



The True Gentleman. 627 

fashioned after the highest models. It is a grand old 
name, that of Gentleman, and has been recognized as a 
rank and power in all stages of society. " The Gentle- 
man is always the Gentleman," said the old French 
General to his regiment of Scottish gentry at Rousillon, 
" and invariably proves himself such in need and in 
danger." To possess this character is a dignity of it- 
self, commanding the instinctive homage of every gen- 
erous mind, and those who will not bow to titular rank, 
will yet do homage to the gentleman. His qualities 
depend not upon fashion or manners, but upon moral 
worth — not on personal possessions, but on personal 
qualities. The Psalmist briefly describes him as one 
" that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, 
and speaketh the truth in his heart." 

The gentleman is eminently distinguished for his self- 
respect. He values his character — not so much of it 
only as can be seen of others, but as he sees it himself; 
having regard for the approval of his inward monitor. 
And, as he respects himself, so, by the same law, does 
he respect others. Humanity is sacred in his eyes; and 
thence proceed politeness and forbearance, kindness and 
charity. 

The true gentleman has a keen sense of honor — scru- 
pulously avoiding mean actions. His standard of pro- 
bity in word and action is high. He does not shuffle 
or prevaricate, dodge or skulk; but is honest, upright, 
and straightforward. His law is rectitude — action in 
right lines. When he says yes, it is a law: and he 



628 The Gentleman s Rectitude. 

dares to say the^ valiant no at the fitting season. The 
gentleman will not be bribed; only the low-minded 
and unprincipled will sell themselves to those who are 
interested in buying them. * 

Riches and rank have no necessary connection with 
•genuine gentlemanly qualities. The poor man may be 
a true gentleman — in spirit and in daily life. He may 
be honest, truthful, upright, polite, temperate, courage- 
ous, self-respecting, and self-helping — that is, be a true 
gentleman. The poor man with a rich spirit is in all 
ways superior to the rich man with a poor spirit. To 
borrow St. Paul's words, the former is as " having 
nothing, yet possessing all things, 1 ' while the other, 
though possessing all things has nothing. The first 
hopes every thing, and fears nothing; the last hopes 
nothing, and fears every thing. Only the poor in spirit 
are really poor. He who has lost all, but retains his 
courage, cheerfulness, hope, virtue, and self-respect, is 
still rich. For such a man, the world is, as it were, held 
intrust; his spirit dominating over its grosser cares, he 
can still walk erect, a true gentleman. 

There are many tests by which a gentleman may be 
known; but there is one that never fails — How does he 
exercise power over those subordinate to him? How 
does he conduct himself towards women and children? 
How does the officer treat his men, the employer his 
servants, the master his pupils, and man in every sta- 
tion those who are weaker than himself? The discre- 
tion, forbearance, and kindliness with which power in 



Exercise of Personal Power, 629 

such cases is used, may indeed be regarded as the cru- 
cial test of gentlemanly character. 

Gentleness is indeed the best test of gentlemanliness. 
A consideration for the feelings of others, for his infe- 
riors and dependents as well as his equals, and respect 
for their self-respect, will pervade the true gentleman's 
whole conduct. He will rather himself suffer a small 
injury, than by any uncharitable construction of anoth- 
er's behavior, incur the risk of committing a great 
wrong. He will be forbearant of the weaknesses, the 
failings, and the errors, of those whose advantages in 
life have not been equal to his own. He will be mer- 
ciful even to his beast. He will not boast of his wealth, 
or his strength, or his gifts. He will not be puffed up 
by success, or unduly depressed by failure. He will not 
obtrude his views upon others, but speak his mind freely 
when occasion calls for it. He will not confer favors 
with a patronizing air. Sir Walter Scott once said of 
Lord Lothian, " He is a man from whom one may re- 
ceive a favor, and that's saying a great deal in these 
days." 

The quaint old Fuller sums up in a few words the 
character of the true gentleman and man of action in 
describing that of the great admiral, Sir Francis Drake: 
" Chaste in his life, just in his dealings, true of his 
word ; merciful to those that were under him, and hat- 
ing nothing so much as idleness; in matters especially 
of moment, he was never wont to rely on other men's 
care, how trusty or skillful soever they might seem to 



630 



Character of Sir Francis Drake. 



be, but, always contemning danger, and refusing no 
toil, he was wont himself to be one (whoever was a 
second) at every turn, where courage, skill or industry, 
was to be employed." 




CHAPTER L. 



HEALTHY HOMES. 



Healthy Existence. — Necessity for Pure Air. — Healthy Homes. — Influence 
of the Home. — Intelligence of Women. — Wholesome Dwellings. 

" The best security for civilization is the dwelling." — B. Disraeli. 

" Cleanliness is the elegance of the poor." — English Proverb, 

" Virtue never dwells long with filth and nastiness." — Count Rumford. 

(iTEALTH is said to be wealth. Indeed, all wealth 
-*~-*- is valueless without health. Every man who lives 
by labor, whether of mind or body, regards health as 
one of the most valuable of possessions. Without it, 
life would be unenjoyable. The human system has 
been so framed as to render enjoyment one of the prin- 
cipal ends of physical life. The whole arrangement, 
structure, and functions of the human system are beau- 
tifully adapted for that purpose. 

The exercise of every sense is pleasurable — the ex- 

p 

ercise of sight, hearing, taste, touch, and muscular ef- 
fort. What can be more pleasurable, for instance, than 
the feeling of entire health — health which is the sum 
total of the functions of life, duly performed? 

Happiness is the rule of healthy existence; pain and 
misery are its exceptional conditions. Nor is pain al- 

631 



632 Healthy Existence- 

together an evil; it is rather a salutary warning. It 
tells us that we have transgressed some rule, violated 
some law, disobeyed some physical obligation. It is 
a monitor which warns us to amend our state of living. 
It virtually says, " Return to Nature, observe her laws, 
and be restored to happiness." Thus, paradoxical 
though it may seem, pain is one of the conditions of 
the physical well-being of man; as death, according to 
Dr. Thomas Brown, is one of the conditions of the en- 
joyment of life. 

To enjoy physical happiness, therefore, the natural 
laws must be complied with. To discover and observe 
these laws, man has been endowed with the gift of rea- 
son. Does he fail to exercise this gift — does he neglect 
to comply with, the law of his being — then pain and dis- 
ease are the necessary consequence. 

Wherever any number of persons live together, the 
atmosphere becomes poisoned, unless means be provi- 
ded for its constant change and renovation. If there 
be not sufficient ventilation, the air becomes charged 
with carbonic acid, principal^' the product of respira- 
tion. Whatever the body discharges, becomes poison 
to the body if introduced again through the lungs- 
Hence the immense importance of pure air. A deficien- 
cy of food may be considerably less injurious than a 
deficiency of pure air. Every person above fourteen 
years of age requires about six hundred cubic feet of 
shut-up space to breathe in during the twenty-four 
hours. If he sleeps in a room of smaller dimensions, 



Necessity for Pure Air. 633 

he will suffer more or less, and gradually approach the 
condition of being smothered. 

The first method of raising a man above the life of 
an animal is to provide him with a healthy home. The 
home is, after all, the best school for the world. Chil- 
dren grow up into men and women there; they imbibe 
their best and their worst morality there; and their 
morals and intelligence are in a great measure well or 
ill trained there. 

The home should not be considered merely as an eat- 
ing and sleeping place; but as a place where self-respect 
may be preserved, and comfort secured, and domestic 
pleasures enjoyed. Three-fourths of the petty vices 
which degrade society, and swell into crimes which dis- 
grace it, would shrink before the influence of self- re-' 
spect. To be a place of happiness, exercising beneficial 
influences upon its members, and especially upon the 
children growing up within it, the home must be per- 
vaded by the spirit of comfort, cleanliness, affection, and 
intelligence. And in order to secure this, the presence 
of a well-ordered, industrious, and educated woman is 
indispensable. So much depends upon the woman, that 
we might almost pronounce the happiness or unhappi- 
ness of the home to be woman's work. No nation can 
advance except through the improvement of the nation's 
homes; and they can only be improved through the in- 
strumentality of women. They must know how to 
make homes comfortable; and before they can know, 
they must have been taught. 



634 Wholesome Dwellings, 

To build a wholesome dwelling costs little more than 
to build an unwholesome one. What is wanted on the 
part of the builder are, a knowledge of sanitary condi- 
tions, and a willingness to provide the proper accom- 
modation. The space of ground covered by the dwel- 
ling is the same in both cases; the quantity of bricks 
and mortar need be no greater; and pure air is of the 
same price as foul air. Light costs nothing. 

A healthy home, presided over by a thrifty, cleanly 
woman, may be the abode of comfort, of virtue, and of 
happiness. It may be the scene of every ennobling re- 
lation in family life. It may be endeared to a man by 
many delightful memories — by the affectionate voices 
of his wife, his children, and his neighbors. Such a 
home will be regarded, not as a mere nest of common 
instinct, but as a training-ground for young immortals, 
a sanctuary for the heart, a refuge from storms, a sweet 
resting-place after labor, a consolation in sorrow, a pride 
in success, and a joy at all times. 



CHAPTER LI. 



THE LAST. 



Youth and Old Age. — The Invisible Messenger. — Frederick the Great. — 
Sir Harry Vane. — Sir Walter Raleigh. — Sir John Moore. — Sir Walter 
Scott. — Jeremy Taylor on Life. — A Man's True Life. — St. Francis of 
Assisi. 

When darkness gathers over all, 
And the last tottering .pillars fall, 
Take the poor dust Thy mercy warms 
And mould it into heavenly forms. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 

This is our life, while we enjoy it. We lose it like the sun, which flies 
swifter than an arrow; and yet no man perceives that it moves. ... Is 
not earth turned to earth ; and shall not our sun set like theirs when the 
night comes? — Henry Smith. 

/TV HE young man enters life with joy and enthusi- 
-*- asm. The world lies all enamelled before him, 
as a distant prospect sun-gilt. But time quickly cools 
his enthusiasm. He can not carry the freshness of the 
morning through the day and into the night. Youth 
passes, age matures, and at length he must resign him- 
self to growing old. 

But the end is the result of his past life. Words and 

deeds are irrevocable. They mix themselves up with 

his character, and descend to futurity. The past is ever 

present with us. " Every sin," says Jeremy Taylor, 

635 



636 The Last 

" smiles in the first address, and carries light in the face 
and honey on the lip." When life matures, and the 
evil-doer ceases not from his ways, he can only look 
forward to old age with fear and despair. 

But good principles, on the other hand, form a suit 
of armor which no weapon can penetrate. " True re- 
ligion," says Cecil, " is the life, health, and education 
of the soul; and whoever truly possesses it is strength- 
ened with peculiar encouragement for every good word 
and work." 

Death comes to all. • We each day dig our graves 
with our teeth. The hour-glass is the emblem of life. 
It wanes low, to the inevitable* last grain, and then 
there is silence — death. Even the monarch walks over 
the tombs of his forefathers to be crowned; and is after- 
ward taken over them to his grave. 

The old men must give way to the young, and these 
too for men who are younger than themselves. When 
time has tugged at us long, we cease to do more than 
vegetate; we become a burden to ourselves and to oth- 
ers, and, what is worst of all, we get a longing for a 
still longer life. " When I look at many old men around 
me," said Perthes, " I am reminded of Frederick the 
Great's expostulation with his grenadiers, who demur- 
red at going to certain death. ' What, you dogs ! would 
ye go on living forever?' " 

But there are worst things than death. That is not 
the greatest calamit} 7 that can befall a man. Death 
levels, yet ennobles. Love is greater than death. Duty 



The Last 6o7 

fulfilled makes death restful; dishonor makes death ter- 
rible. " I bless the Lord," said Sir Harry Vane, be- 
fore his execution on Tower Hill, " that I have not de- 
serted the righteous cause for which I suffer !" When 
Sir Walter Raleigh was laid on the block he was told 
by the executioner to lie with his head toward the east. 
"No matter how the head lies," was his reply, "so 
that the heart be right." 

Sir John Moore was struck down on the field of Co- 
runna, and the doctor arrived to his help. " No, no!" 
he said. " You cannot be of use to me; go to the sol- 
diers, to whom you may be useful." The last words 
that Nelson said were, " Thank God, I have done my 
duty. I have done my duty!" " My dear," said Sir 
Walter Scott to his son on his death-bed," be a good 
man; be virtuous, be religious, be a good man. Noth- 
ing else can give you comfort when you come to lie 
here." " Live well!" said the dying Samuel Johnson. 

We have only one way into life, and a thousand ways 
out of it. Birth and death are but the circling of life 
in itself. God gives us our being, and gives us the 
custody of the keys of life. We can do, and labor, and 
love our fellow-creatures, and do our duty to them. 
" The way to judge of religion," says Jeremy Taylor, 
" is by doing our duty. Religion is rather a divine life 
than a divine knowledge. In heaven, indeed, we must 
first see, and then love; but here, on earth, we must first 
love, and love will open our eyes as well as our hearts, 
and we shall then see and perceive and understand." 



638 



The Last 



If we would face the future, we must work on cour- 
ageously from day to day. It is in the steadfast hope 
of an existence after death, where tears shall be wiped 
from every eye, that we are enabled to live through 
the sorrows and troubles of this life. A man's true 
wealth hereafter is the good he does in this world to 
his fellow-creatures. When he dies people will say, 
" What property has he left?" But the angels who ex- 
amine him will ask, " What good deeds hast thou sent 
before thee?" 

To everything under the sun there is a last. The 
last line of a book, the last sermon, the last speech, the 
last act of a life, the last words at death. " Bring my 
soul out of prison, that I may give thanks unto Thy 
name," were the last words of St. Francis of Assisi. 
Hie jacet is the universal epitaph. Then the secrets of 
all hearts shall be finally revealed — at the last day. 





MpiiSsss^ 



The Flood of Years, 



A MIGHTY Hand, from an exhaustless Urn, 
Pours forth the never-ending Flood of Years, 
Among the nations. How the rushing waves 
Bear all before them ! On their foremost edge, 
And there alone, is Life. The Present there 
Tosses and foams, and fills the air with roar 
Of mingled noises. There are they who toil, 
And they who strive, and they who feast, and they 
Who hurry to and fro. The sturdy swain — 
Woodman and delver with the spade — is there, 
And busy artisan beside his bench, 
And pallid student with his written roll. 
A moment on the mounting billows seen, 
The flood sweeps over them, and they are gone. 
There groups of revelers whose brows are twined 
With roses, ride the topmost swell awhile, 
And as they raise their flowing cups, and touch 
The clinking brim to brim, are whirled beneath 

639 



640 The Flood of Years. . , 

The waves, and disappear. I hear the jar 

Of beaten drums, and thunders that break forth 

From cannon, where the advancing billow sends 

Up to the sight long files of armed men, 

That hurry to the charge through flame and smoke. 

The torrent bears them under, whelmed and hid, 

Slayer and slain, in heaps of bloody foam. 

Down go the steed and rider, the plumed chief 

Sinks with his followers ; the head that wears 

The imperial diadem goes down beside 

The felon's with cropped ear and branded cheek. 

A funeral-train — the torrent sweeps away 

Bearers and bier and mourners. By the bed 

Of one who dies men gather sorrowing, 

Arid women weep aloud ; the flood rolls on ; 

The wail is stifled, and the sobbing group 

Borne under. Hark to. that shrill, sudden shout, 

The cry of an applauding multitude, 

Swayed by some loud-voiced orator who wields 

The living mass as if he were its soul ! 

The waters choke the shout, and all is still. 

Lo ! next a kneeling crowd, and one who spreads 

The hands in prayer : the ingulfing wave o'ertakes 

And swallows them and him. A sculptor wields 

The chisel, and the stricken marble grows 

To beauty ; at his easel, eager eyed, 

A painter stands, and sunshine at his touch 

Gathers upon his canvas, and life glows ; 

A poet, as he paces to and fro, 

Murmurs his sounding lines. Awhile they ride 

The advancing, billow, till its tossing crest 

Strikes them and flings them under, white their tasks 

Are yet unfinished. See a mother smile 

On her young babe that smiles to her again : 

The torrent wrests it from her arms ; she shrieks 



The Flood of Years. 641 

And weeps, and midst her tears is carried down. 

A beam like that of moonlight turns the spray 

To glistening pearls ; two lovers, hand in hand, 

Rise on the billowy swell, and fondly look 

Into each other's eyes. The rushing flood 

Flings them apart : the youth goes down ; the maid 

With hands outstretched in vain, and streaming eyes, 

Waits for the next high wave to follow him. 

An aged man succeeds ; his bending form 

Sinks slowly. Mingling with the sullen stream 

Gleam the white locks, and then are seen no more. 

Lo ! wider grows the stream, — a sea-like flood 
Saps earth's walled cities ; massive palaces 
Crumble before it ; fortresses and towers 
Dissolve in the swift waters ;' populous realms 
Swept by the torrent see their ancient tribes 
Ingulfed and lost ; their very languages 
Stifled, and never to be uttered more. 

I pause and turn my eyes and looking back 
Where that tumultuous flood has been, I see 
The silent ocean of the Past, a waste 
Of waters weltering over graves, its shores 
Strewn with the wreck of fleets were mast and hull 
Drop away piecemeal ; battlemented walls 
Frown idly, green with moss, and temples stand 
Unroofed, forsaken by the worshiper. 
There lie memorial stones, whence time has gnawed 
The graven legends, thrones of kings o'erturned, 
The broken altars of forgotten gods, 
Foundations of old cities and long streets 
Where never fall of human foot is heard, 
On all the desolate pavement. I behold 
Dim glimmerings of lost jewels, far within 
The sleeping waters, diamond, sardonyx, 
Ruby and topaz, pearl and chrysolite, 



642 The Flood of Years. 

Once glittering at the banquet on fair brows 
That long ago were dust ; and all around 
Strewn on the surface of that silent sea 
Are withering bridal wreaths, and glossy locks 
Shorn from dear brows by loving hands, and scrolls 
O'er-written, haply with fond words of love 
And vows of friendship, and fair pages flung 
Fresh from the printer's engine. There they lie 
A moment, and then sink away from sight. 

I look, and the quick tears are in my eyes, 
For I behold in every one of these 
A blighted hope, a separate history 
Of human sorrows, telling of dear ties 
Suddenly broken, dreams of happiness 
Dissolved in air, and happy days too brief 
That sorrowfully ended, and I think 
How painfully must the poor heart have beat. 
In bosoms without number, as the blow 
Was struck that slew their hope and broke their peace. 

Sadly I turn and look before, where yet 
The Flood must pass, and I behold a mist 
Where swarm dissolving forms, the brood of Hope, 
Divinely fair, that rest on banks of flowers, 
Or wander among rainbows, fading soon 
And re-appearing, haply giving place 
To forms of grisly aspect such as Fear 
Shapes from the idle air, — where serpents lift 
The head to strike, and skeletons stretch forth 
The bony arm in menace. . Further on 
A belt of darkness seems to bar the way, 
Long, low, and distant, where the life to come 
Touches the life that is. The Flood of Years 
Rolls toward it near and nearer. It must pass 
That dismal barrier. What is there beyond ? 
Hear what the wise and good have said. Beyond 



The Flood of Years. 643 

That belt of darkness, still the years roll on 

More gently, but with not less mighty sweep. 

They gather up again and softly bear 

All the sweet lives that late were overwhelmed 

And lost to sight, all that in them was good, 

Noble, and truly great, and worthy of love, — 

The lives of infants and ingenuous youths, 

Sages, and saintly women who have made 

Their households happy; all are raised and borne 

By that great current in its onward sweep, 

Wandering and rippling with caressing waves 

Around green islands fragrant with the breath 

Of flowers that never wither. So they pass 

From stage to stage along the shining course 

Of that bright river, broadening like a sea. 

As its smooth eddies curl along their way 

They bring old friends together ; . hands are clasped 

In joy unspeakable; the mother's arms 

Again are folded round the child she loved 

And lost. Old sorrows are forgotten now, 

Or but remembered to make sweet the hour 

That overpays them; wounded hearts that bled 

Or broke are healed for ever. In the room 

Of this grief-shadowed present, there shall be 

A Present in whose reign no grief shall gnaw 

The heart, and never shall a tender tie 

Be broken; in whose reign the eternal Change 

That waits on growth and action shall proceed 

With everlasting Concord hand in hand. 



HOME. 

MONTGOMERY. 

fHERE is a land, of every land the pride, 
Beloved of Heaven o'er all the world beside, 
Where brighter suns dispense serener light, 
And milder moons imparadise the night, — 
A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, 
Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth. 
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores 
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, 
Views not a realm so beautiful and fair, 
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air. 
In ever}' clime the magnet of his soul, 
Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole; 
For in this land of Heaven's peculiar grace, 
The heritage of nature's noblest race, 
There is a spot of earth supremely blest, 
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest, 
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside 
His sword and scepter, pageantry and pride, 
While in his softened looks benignly blend 
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend. 
Here woman reigns: the mother, daughter, wife, 
Strews with fresh flowers the narrow way of life; 
In the clear heaven of her delighted eye, 
An angel-guard of Loves and Graces lie; 
Around her knees domestic duties meet, 
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. 
Where shall that land, that spot of earth, be found? 
Art thou a man? a patriot? — look around: 
O, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, 
That land thy country, and that spot thy home ! 

644 



«I*INDEX.^ 



Abauzit, his patience, 284. 

Abbot, Dr., on the character of I 
Sackville, 86. 

Ability, speculative and practical, j 
148. 

Accuracy, 490, 491. 

Action a part of duty, 249. 

Activity, examples of, 474. 

Adams, President, his mother, 36; 
and Washington, 103. 

Addison, 311; Secretary of State, I 
140. 

Admiration of the great and good, 
68, 72, 106, 181. 

Adulteration, 266, 267. 

Adversity, uses of, 177, 559, 560. 

African women and Mungo Park, 615. 

Akenside, poet, 308. 

Albert, Prince, and the chief prize, 
96. 

Alexander the Great, on pleasure and 
toil, 118, 295. 

America, bad work in. 268, 270: re- 
pudiation in, 277, 273. 

Adrian VI., 313. 

Angelo, Michael, 282, 463, 447; and 
Francis de Medicis, 78; and self- 
help, 177. 

Anne. Queen, literary men in reign 
of, 140. 

Antisthenes and Diogenes, 176. 

Anquetil, 176. 

Application and perseverance, 331. 
333, 334, 563. 

Apprenticeship in America. 268. 

Ariosto, and Leo X., 78; his genius 
for business, 142. 

Aristotle, portrait of the magnani- 
mous, 181. 

Arkwright, Sir R,, 397, 403. 

Arnold, Dr., on personal example, 
70; on admiration, 72. 

Arnold, Matthew 144. 

Askew, Anne, martyr, 163. 

645 



Association, influence of, 57. 

Athens, cause of its decline, 115. 

Attention, habit of, 335. 

Attica, its smaliness and greatness, 
114. 

Audley, (Court of Wards) on dishon- 
esty" in the office, 217. 

Audubon, ornithologist, his perse- 
verance, 339. 

Augustine, St., his boyhood, 25;. on 
force of habit, 26. 

Bacon, Lord, 304, 322, 461: his 
mother, 36; a man of business, 
139; on practical wisdom, 141; on 
leisure, 150; on resolution, 252; 
on economy, 521. 

Bailey, Samuel B., literary man and 
banker, 145. 

Bankers, literary, 145. 

Bankruptcy, dishonest, 271. 

Banks, sculptor, 468. 

Bannockburn, Douglas and Ran- 
dolph at, 179. 

Barberini,Vase, the. and Wedgwood, 
386, 387. 

Barbers, eminent, 397, 398. 

Bargain-buying, 58, 584. 

Barry, painter, and Edmund Burke. 
209. 

Beaumont. Sir G-., admiration of 
Claude. 81. 

Beethoven and Handel. 79. 

Bell, SirC, on example, 55: admira- 
tion of, 181. 

Bentham, Jeremy, on self-control. 
203; on happiness, 288: description 
of a liberal, 173. 

Beranger, his songs, 211. 

Bernard, St., on self -injury. 95. 

Bible, a series of biographies. 625. 

Bicknell, husband of Sabrina Syd- 
ney. 136. 

Bigness, not greatness. 113. 



646 



Index. 



Biography, its uses, 303, 304; a les- 
son of, 82, 625. 

Biot, Laplace's generous conduct to, 
179. 

Bird, 462, 465. 

Birkenhead, loss of the, 192. 

Blackstone, Sir William, 311. 

Boccaccio, a diplomatist, 141. 

Bolingbroke on Marlborough's char- 
acter, 16. 

Books, companionship of, 623; 
society of, 624. 

Bonald, on education, 252. 

Boniface, St., and work, 125. 

Borrowing, danger of, 523. 

Bossuet, his industry, 131. 

Boswell and Johnson, 73. 

Bottgher, J. F., his early life, 372; 
his boyish trick in Alchemy, 372, 
373; his troubles, 373, 378; makes 
red porcelain, 376 ; makes white por- 
celain, 377; his death, 380. 

Boulton and Watt, 401. 

Brain work, 155. 

Bremer, Miss, on the power of evil 
words, 202. 

Bright, John, on frugality, 516. 

Brindley, engineer, 504, 306. 

Broderip, Mr., naturalist, 145. 

Brooke, Lord, on the character of Sir 
P. Sidney, 66. 

Brotherton, Joseph, M. P., 317. 

Brougham, Lord, on education of the 
child, 19; his maternal grand- 
mother, 36; his industry, 137; on 
hobbies, 151. 

Brown, SirS., 450. 

Brown, Capt. John, on character, 62. 

Browne, Sir T., his profession, 139; 
on truthfulness, 231. 

Brunei, Sir I., a thoughtful observer, 
450. 

Bruno, martyrdom of, 154. 

Buckland, Dr. , assailed because of his 
views of Geology, 160. 

Buffon, Comte de, as student, 343: 
on enthusiam in the young, 290. 

Burke, Edmund, on example, 54 ; his 
advice to Barry, 209 ; on suDerfme 
virtues, 85 ; on the power of virtue, 
92; his infirmity of temper, 92; 
his cheerfulness, 285; Fox's ad- 
miration of, 67. 

Burritt, .Elihu, 546. 

Business habits, and discipline, 195 ; 
necessary for women, 45, 132 ; and 
genius, 135. 

Butler, on duty in action, 254. 

Buxton, Sir Fowell, 550. 



Byron, Lord, on Dante, 108; on Sheri- 
dan, 216; on hope, 296. 

Caesar, Julius, power of his name 
after death, 104; his authorship 
and generalsnip, 134, 152. 

Caesarism, fallacy of, 300. 

Caldron, a soldier, 142. 

Callcott, Sir A., 464. 

Callistratus, the inspirer of Demos- 
thenes, 77. 

Callot, Jacques, artist, 471. 

Calvin, energy of, 107. 

Camoens, a soldier, 142. 

Canning, his mother, 37; admiration 
of Pitt, 80 ; and literature, 152. 

Carev, William* missionary, 307, 
338, 339. 

Carew, Lady E., on noble scorn, 205. 

Carlyle on Johnson. 73; on control 
of speech, 203; on concentration 
of energy, 256; his destroyed 
MSS., 341; on biography, 623.* 

Cecil on method, 490. 

Cellini, Benvenuto, his origin, 473; 
his career, 474, 475; statue of 
Perseus, 476. 

Cervantes, a ^olclier, 142. 

Chalmers, Rev. Dr., on honesty, 509. 

Chantry, Sir Francis, 309. 

Character, formation of, 22, 31, 92; 
influence of, 84; and the home. 
17; and will, 96; and reverence, 
99, 106; and discipline, 191; is 
formed of duty, conscience and 
will, 245, 251; and truthfulness. 
230; is power, 544; and marriage. 
610 ; and manner, 619. 

Charity, practical, 206. 

Charles I., literary men emploved 
by, 139. 

Charles IX., death of, 403. 

Chateaubriand and Washington, 66. 

Chatterton, poet, 549. 

Chatham, Earl of, his public honesty, 
217; his inspiring energy, 103. 

Chaucer, Geoffrey, a man of busi- 
ness, 134, 482. 

Cheerfulness, 277. 286, 336. 

Chesterfield, Earl of, on truthful- 
ness, 230; on hardening of the 
heart with age, 283; custom and 
habit, 279. 

Child, the, and the home, 19. 

Chisholm, Mrs., 188. 

Christianity and work, 125. 

Circumstances and character, 34, 92. 

Civilization, home, the school of, 18; 
and mothers, 24 ; and thrift, 564. 



Index. 



64' 



Clarendon, his character of Hamp- 
den, 230. 

€larkson and anti-slavery, 175. 

Classical studies, uses of, 152. 

Claude Lorraine and constable, 81. 

Cleanliness and self-respect, 621. 

Cobden, R., his laboriousness, 137; 
an antagonistic man, 175: on 
thrift, 516. 

Cockburn, Lord, on the personal in- 
fluence of Dugald Stewart, 62. 

Colbert, on the character of the 
Dutch, 114. 

Coleridge, S. T., on idlaness and 
methodical industry, 131. 

Coligni, Admiral, his granddaughter, 
Charlotte de la Tremouille, 186. 

Columbus, a careful observer, 140. 

Commercial honestvand dishonesty, 
266, 268, 271. 

Common sense, 91, 2C5. 

Commonwealth, literary men em- 
ployed by, 140. 

Companionship, 53-56; in marriage, 
610; of books, 623. 

Confucius, and will, 244, 245. 

Congreve, a man of business, 140. 

Conscience is the origin of religion, 
237, 238 ; is living and gives self- 
control, 239, 240; gives happiness 
and magnanimity, 240-241 ; is the 
origin of all virtues, 247, 248. 

Constable, R. A., and Lord Lorraine. 
81. 

Contagiousness of energy and ge- 
nius, 169, 70, 77, 102, 177. 

Control of self, 190, 201, 226, 621. 

Copernicus, followers of, persecuted. 
160. 

Cornwallis, Lord, and Col. Xapier, 217. 

Cornwall, Barry (Mr. Proctor), 144. 

Courage, 157; common, 169: in wo- 
men, 184; and character, 226; is 
always necessary, 259. 260. 

Courageous working, 537. 

Courtesy,. 620, 178. 

Cowardice, moral, 213, 170. 

Cowlev, on the influence of example, 
217; employed by Chas. 1., 139. 

Culture, worship of, 260 : vanity of. 
261. 

Cunningham, Allen, his admiration 
of Sir W. Scott, 74. 

Custom and habit, 55, 113. 

D'Alembert, 562. 
Dalton, John, 334. 
Daniel, poet, on self-education of 
character, 97. 



Dante, his influence on history, 71, 

108; a man of business, 141. 
Dargan, William, on independence, 

301. 
Darwin, on conscience, 242. 
Davenport of Stamford, 237. 
Davy, Sir H., 312, 457. 458: in bov- 

hood, 562. 
Death, happv and unhappy, 635- 

638. 
Debt, immorality of, 213. 
Decision, 551; and indecision, 168, 

225. 
Decline of nations, causes of, 114. 
De Foe, D , a man of business, 143. 
Delpini and Sheridan, 92. 
Demosthenes, fired by Callistratus, 

77. 
Denison, Edward, on Providence, 

573. 
Derby, Earl of, his translation of 

the "Iliad," 155; (Lord Stanley), 

on work. 123. 
Descartes, a soldier, 142; his views 

denounced as irreligious, 160. 
De Tocqueville. on literature, 152. 
Difficulties make a good school, 257. 
Diligence indispensable, 320, 321. 
Diplomatists and diplomacy, 141, 

•142, 232. 
Discipline, value of, 187, 226. 
Discontent, 291. 
Discoveries not accidental, 446. 
Dishonest gains, 510, 511. 
Dishonest living, 214, 215. 
Diogenes and Antisthenes, 176. 
Disraeli, Benjamin, M. P., 323, 326, 

327: on Cobden, 81; as a literary 

man, 155. 
Disraeli, Isaac, and Dr. Johnson, 75. 
Domestic training, 19, 193. 
Domitian, his hobby, 150. 
Douglas, the, at Otterburn, 104; at 

Bannoekburn, 179; Catherine, her 

brave conduct at Perth, 186. 
Douglas, S. A., and repudiation, 273. 
Dowry, greatest of a nation, 109. 
Drake, Sir F.. Admiral, 311, 629; 

his education by toil, 127. 
Drew, Samuel, shoemaker and meta- 
physician, 321; his origin, 348; 

his courage, 349, 350 ; his studies. 

352; his writings, 353, 354; on 

frugality, 515, 549. 
Drinking, vice of, 212, 529. 
Dupanloup, on liberty among chil- 
dren, 255. 
Dutch, energy of, 115. 
Duty, sphere of. 85, 222, 236; 



648 



Index. 



sustaining power of, 86, 227; 
Wellington, 229; in the New 
Testament, 245, 246; forms char- 
acter, 247; gives peace in death, 
635, 638. 

Duty and action, 249, 260. 

Duty and honesty, 226, 276. 

Dyer, Mary, a New England mar- 
tyr, 163. 

Economy and indenendence, 518- 
519. 

Edgeworth, Mr., 394. 

Education in courage, 184; of wo- 
men, 47. 

Edwardes, Colonel, 311. 

Edwards, Thomas, Banff, 307. 

Edwards, Sir. H., and General 
Nicholson, 66. 

Egotism, 291. 

Eliot, Sir J., his execution, 165. 

Elizabeth, reign of, great men in, 
108, 139. 

Elliott, Ebenezer, poet, a man of 
business, 143 ; on success, 257, 258. 

Emerson, on civilization, 24; on 
imitation, 54; on history, 626. 

Energy, contagiousness of, 69, 70, 77, 
176, 102; its influence, 96, 98; of 
will, 225 ; and courage, 534. 

Ennui, Helvetius on the use of, 138. 

Enthusiasm, youthful, uses of, 290. 

Envy of small minds, 75. 

Etiquette. 620. 

Etty, William, 183. 

Example, influence of, 19; better 
than precept, 22, 65; of compan- 
ions, 53; Dr. Arnold's, 61; of the 
great, 77. 

Faraday, Professor, 309, 457, 458; 
inspiration o £ his friendship, 68. 

Farini, merchant, 142. 

Fast living, tendency to, 582, 583. 

Ferguson, astronomer, 455, 549. 

Fichte, on love, 616. 

Fielding, Henry, his cheerfulness, 
282. 

First impressions, 20. 

Flaxman, John, sculptor, 462, 386. 

Food, women and the art of prepar- 
ing, 52. 

Foote, Sam, and his mother, 43. 

Forbearance, in act, 617. 

Formation of character, 22, 31, 92. 

Foster, John, 306 ; words of, 332. 

Fox, C. J., 318; his admiration of 
Burke, 67; his spirit of honor, 
99; his painstaking, 489, 490, 55^. 



Franklin, Benjamin, a man of busi- 
ness, 143 ; Turgot's description of, 
152; his discovery of the nature of 
lightning, 160; and electricity, 
452; on thrift of time, 577; his 
integrity, 418. 

Franklin, Sir John, his tenderness, 
437. 

Franklin, Lady, 187. 

Freedom and free will, 226; spirit- 
ual, 239. 

French, statesmen and literature, 
152 ; gallantry of a French work- 
ingman, 180 ; of a French officer 
at Dettingen, 181; generals risen 
from the ranks, 315, 316. 

Fry, Mrs., 188. 

Fuller, Andrew, 352*; on the char- 
acter of Drake, 127. 

Gainsborough, painter, 461, 465. 

Galileo, his business pursuits, 142 ;. 
his persecution, 159; his observ- 
ing faculty, 449. 

Galvani and electricity, 452. 

Garrett, Miss., 188. 

Generosity of great men, 179. 

Genius, inspiring power of , 70, 107;. 
not incompatible with ability in 
business, 136 ; definition of, 332,453. 

Gesner, naturalist, 313. 

Gentleman, Sir T. Overbury, on the 
true, 100 ; Aristotle on the same, 
181. 

Gentleness, influence of, 629. 

Gibson, John, artist, 306. 

Gibson, William, 307. 

Gifford, William, 307, 455 ; on busi- 
ness and literature, 141. 

Girard, Stephen, on strong tempers, 
198. 

Gladstone, W. E., on Lord Palmer- 
ston's character, 101. 

Goethe, his mother, 39; on the 
present moment, 248; on goody- 
goody persons, 286. 

Goldoni and business, 142. 

Goodness, diffusive, 62. 

Gotos, South American, 208. 

Government, and character, 111; 
origin of, 119; and individual 
action, 298, 299. 

Gray, poet, his mother, 39. 

Great men, influence of, 71, 103-110;; 
homage of, 78 ; their cheerfulness,. 
281. 

Greece, influence of, in history, 107. 

Gretry (musician), on good mothers, 
27. 



Index. 



649 



Greville. Fulke, his character of Sir 

P. Sidney, 179. 
Grimaldi and his physician, 292, 293. 
Grote, Mr., historian, 483. 
Grumblers at fortune, 290. 
Grundy, Mrs., despotism of, 170. 

Habits, force of, 50 ; of business, 138, 
195 ; training of, i94; consolidation 
of, in character, 226. 

Hall, Capt, Basil and Sir W. Scott,283. 

Hall, Dr. Marshall, his energy, 69; 
on indolence, 121 ; on truthful- 
ness, 234; on cheerfulness, 280. 

Hampden, 230; industry of, 137; 
Clarendon's character of, 196. 

Handel, admiration of, by great 
musicians, 79. 

H appiness, from duty, 240, 241 : and 
temper, 277. 

Hardenberg, F. von (JYova-hs), 131. 

Hardin ge. Lord, 311. 

Hastings, Warren, 311. 

Havelock at Vera, 102. 

Hawkswood, Sir John, 307. 

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, on sexual 
affection. 616, 617. 

Haydn, 312; and Porpora, 78; and 
Handel, 79. 

Haydon and Sir J. Reynolds. 74; on 
debt, 523. 

Hazlitt, on money and debt, 215; on 
business, 479. 

Health, of great men, 547, 548; 
pleasures of, 631 ; injuries to, 632. 

Heathcoat, John, M P., inventor of 
bobbin-net machine, 411, 418-428. 

Heilmann, Joshua, inventor of the 
combining machine, and its value, 
440-445. 

Heinzelmann, on honorable living. 
224. 

Helps, Arthur, literature and busi- 
ness, 144. 

Helvetius, on ennui, 138. 

Herbert, George, his mother's say- 
ing about example, 53; George 
Herbert on the good priest's life. 
65 ; maxims of, 150. 187, 203, 208, 
233. 

Hereditary greatness, 112. 

Herodotus, the inspirer of Thucyd- 
ides, 77. 

Heroes of youth, 74. 102. 

Herschel, astronomer, 309. 

Herschel. Sir J., as Master of the 
Mint, 148. 

History and great men, 107; and 
biograDhv, 626. 



Hobbies uses of, 151. 

Hobson, Admiral, 307. 

Hoche, General, 315. 

Hodson of Hodson's Horse, 311. 

Hogarth. William, painter, 466, 467. 

Holland, character of its people, 114. 

Home, a school of character, 17: of 
moral discipline. 193; influence, 
254, 255, 262; the kingdom of, 
617: and civilization, 633; and 
children. 633. 

Honesty. 263-265; of speech, 204 ; 
the best policy, 507-511. 

Honor, sense of, 225; the gentle- 
man's sense of, 627, 628. 

Hooker, Dr.. on a good life, 65; a 
hard-working priest, 139. 

Hook, Rev. Dr., on work, 337. 

Hope, Thales on, 295 ; a helper, 338. 

Horner, Francis, his father's advice, 
520. 

Household management and busi- 
ness habits, 45. 

Humbert, General, 315. 

Humboldt, the brothers, 148. 

Hume, on moral principle, 90; on 
high living, 527. 

Hunter. John, anatomist, 306, 312, 
334; and his discoveries, 161; his 
patient industry, early life and 
career, 554, 555, 558. 

Hutchinson, Col., his moral courage, 
173; his truthfulness, 230. 

Hutten, on Luther's courage, 165. 
! Hutton, Wm. (of Birmingham), 143. 

Hypocrisy and time-serving, 172. 

Idleness, its demoralizing tendencv, 

114, 117, 119 ; wretchedness of. 570. 
Illinois, honesty of, 272, 273. 
Imagination and fear, 183, 208, 291. 
Imitation, in childhood, 19, 22; 

power of, 55. 
Impatience. 205. 
Indecision, evils of, 168, 225. 
Independence, how secured, 519, 

520. 
Indignation, honest, 204. 
Individualism and freedom, 297- 

300; its influence, 303. 
Industry, necessity of, 117; duty of, 

123; of Sir W. Scott. 129. 217: its 

power, 137; results of, 333; and 

success, 462, 463. 
\ Inquisition, persecutions by the, 159. 
Inspiration : of goodness, 66 ; of 
! genius, 79; of energy, 98-100: of. 

books, 626. 
Institutions, made by great men r 



'650 



Index. 



107; of little value compared 

with character, 111. 
Intellect and character, 86. 
Intrepidity, intellectual, 174. 
Inventors, benefits to society. 392, 

393. 
Irving, Washington, and Sir W. 

Scott, 110, 283. 284; on deserts, 

487, 488. 
Israel, influence of people of, 113. 
Italy, and Dante, 108; Pliny, on 

early rural condition of , 118; great 

literary men of, 141. 

Jackson, W., of Birkenhead, 318, 
319. 

Jacquard, inventor, 428-432. 

James I. (England), great literary 
activity in reign of, 139. 

James II. (Scotland), courageous 
conduct of his court ladies, 186. 

Jameson, Mrs., on duty, 223. 

Jefferson and Washington, 103. 

Jervis, Admiral, on debt, 526. 

Johnson, Andrew, President of the 
United States, 308. 

Johnson, Dr., his regard for his 
mother, 33; on admiration of 
others, 72 ; his own admirers, 73 ; 
on 3Iilton : s industry, 140 ; on self- 
control, 194: on temper, 197; his 
cheerfulness, 282 ; on observation, 
448 ; on genius, 453 ; on economy, 
585, 586; on poverty, 586. 

Jonson, Ben, 185, 306. 

Jones, Inigo, 306, 462. 

Justice and duty, 223. 

Kaye, Sir John, 144. 

Kepler, denounced as a heretic, 160, 
310, 333. 

Kindness, power of, 288. 

Knowledge, and goodness, 552; ac- 
quired by labor, 570. 

Knox, John, his influence on Scotch 
history and character, 108 : energy 
of, 177. 

Labor, necessity of, 117; condition 
of enjoyment, 122; power and, 
137; a blessing, 391; leads to 
wealth, 564; is never lost, 566, 
567; a necessity and pleasure, 568; 
St. Paul on, 569; gives knowl- 
edge, 570; and progress, 571; 
makes the man, 600. 

Laborers' sons, distinguished,'306. 

Lacordaire. on speech and silence, 
203. 



Lamark, a soldier, 142. 

Lamartine, his mother, 44; and 
literature, 152. 

Lamb, Chas., on relief from desk 
drudgery, 128 ; a clerk in the India 
House, 144. 

Lamennais's opinion on will, 540. 

Langdale, Lord, and Sir William 
Napier's "History," 69. 

Laplace, and Napoleon, 149; and 
Biot, 179. 

Lathom House, gallant defei>se of, 
186. 

Latimer, martyr, 163. 

Lawrences, the, 462. 

Lavard, Austen, his perseverance, 
3*12. 

Laziness, danger of, 260, 261. 

Learning and character, 85; is not 
happiness, 253, 254 ; is not moral- 
ity. 254. 255; and wisdom, 552, 
5o3. 

Lee, Professor, linguist, 455. 
I Lee, Rev. William, inventor of 
stocking-loom, 411-416. 

Leisure, enjoyment of, 122. 

Length of years not length of life, 
125. 

Leonardo da Vinci and Francis L, 
78. 

Leon, De, his self-control, 204. 

Lewis, Sir G. C, his love of litera- 
ture, 154. 

Liberty, the end of training, 255. 

Life, uncertainty of, 590, 591. 

Lillo, a jeweler, 142. 

Lindsay, W. S., 318. 

Linnaeus, naturalist, 481. 

Literary, men and business, 140- 
141; statesmen. 152: culture, 552, 
553. 

Little things, importance of, 599- 
605. 

Livingstone, Dr.. missionary, 306. 

Locke, on habit, 55 ; a man of busi- 
ness, 140 ; on education of the will. 
252, 253; on debt, 524. 

Lockhart and Sir W. Scott, 220. 

Longevity, Sir G-. C. Lewis and, 154. 

Loo, manners of the great, 82. 

Loom, the Jacquard, 434-436. 

Lope de Vega, a soldier, 142. 

Lorraine, Claude, painter, 461. 468, 
469. 

Louis XIV. , why unable to conquer 
the Dutch, 114; and toil, 137. 

Love, sympathetic power of, 287. 

Loyola energy of, 177. 

Lubbock, Sir J., and business, 145. 



Index. 



651 



Luck does not make men, 600. 

Luddites, the, machine-breakers, 
424, 425. 

Lunatic asylums and only children, 
193. 

Luther, his poverty, 89 ; his intrepid 
example, 98; his influence on 
German history, 108 ; hislaborious- 
ness, 125; his courage, 165; his 
energy, 177; Charles V. at the 
tomb of, 181; his cheerfulness, 
280; his happiness in marriage, 
617. 

Luxury, 274. 

Lying, meanness of, 231, 232. 

Lyndnurst, Lord, defense of Heath- 
coat's patent, 422; on difficulty, 
561. 

Lyons silk industry, 436. 

Macauley, Lord, on Boswell, 73 ; lit- 
erature and business, 144. 

Macleod, Norman, on character, 246, 
247; on life battles/257. 

M'Clintock, Sir L., and his search 
for Sir J. Franklin, 187. 

Maginn, his improvidence, 214. 

Magnanimity, 242. 

Magnanimous men, the, 181. 

Maistre, De, on mothers' influence, 
32. . 

Malcolm, Sir J., his cheerfulness, 
285. 

Manchester, Bishop of, on agricult- 
ural laborers, 597. 

Manhood from self-control, 240. 

Manner, importance of, 618. 

Marathon, Themistocles and, 77. 

Marcus Aurelius, on good qualities, 
242. 

Marlborough, Lord Bolingbroke on, 
76; his patience, 295, 

Marriage, responsibility of, 582. 

Marten, Henry, on a well-spent life, 
82. 

Martin, John, artist, 462. 

Martyn, Henry, early influence of a 
companion on, 58. 

Martyrs, of faith, 153 ; of science, 159. 

Massena, Marshal, 315,. 316. 

Maternal influence, 21, 31. 

Mathew, Father, 175. 

Maupertius, a soldier, 142. 

Maxims of men as to work, 130. 

Mean natures, 76; can not admire, 
182. 

Melancholy, causes of, 120. 

Melbourne, Lord, and Moore the 
poet's son, 484. 



Memories of the great, 109. 

Method, 490. 

Michelet, his mother, 42. 

Middleton, Bishop, on manner, 618. 

Mill, J., on cause of the necessity for 
government, 119. 

Mill, J. S., 300, 483 ; his combination 
of literature with business, 144; on 
resistance to motives, 238. 

Miller, Hugh, geologist, on educa- 
tion, 262 ; his origin, 321 ; on work 
as a teacher, 391, 536; on drink, 
529, 530. 

Miltiades, his fame envied by The- 
mistocles, 77. 

Milton, John, 312; as a man of 
business, 140, 482; his cheerful- 
ness, 282. 

Miseries, self -indulged, 72, 183, 208, 
291. 

Misfortune and stupidity, 486, 487. 

Models, importance of, for children, 
22; of character, 102, 109. 

Mohammed, energy of, 177. 

Money, and honest-living, 213 ; rep- 
resents independence, 581 ; its use 
and abuse, 512; making and sav- 
ing, 531, 532. 

Monica, mother of St. Augustine, 25. 

Montague, Lady M. W., on Field- 
ing, 282; and' Pope, 613. 

Montaigne, on philosophy and busi- 
ness, 147. 

Moore, Sir John, and the Napiers, 69. - 

Moral courage, 148, 157. 

Moral cowardice, 173, 212, 225. 

Morality, 216 ; political and individ- 
ual, 111. 

More, Sir Thomas, his gentle nature, 
66. 

Mortality, laws of, 592. 

Mosely, Canon, on the diffusiveness 
of good, 64 ; on religion, 238. 

Mothers, influence of, 22, 24; of 
great men, 31. 

Motley, on the princes of the house 
of Nassau, 199. 

Mozart and Handel, 79. 

Mulready, artist, 468. 

Murat, Marshal, 315, 316. 

Murchison, Sir R., 187. 

Napiers, the, their mother, 35; their 
admiration of Sir John Moore, 69, ■ 
102; their honesty, 217. 

Napoleon, I., his opinion of mothers' 
influence, 30, 51; his respect for 
labor, 126; and men of science, 
149; his temper, "200; and Jac- 



652 



Index. 



quard, 435 ; as a business man, at- 
tentive to details, 497-499; his 
character, and on will, 542. 

Napoleon III., on the cause of 
French decadence, 51 ; and litera- 
ture, 152. 

Napoleonic dynasty, Beranger and 
Thiers, and the, 210, 211. 

Nassau, William of, 173, 186. 

National character, 110. 

National prosperity is not real pros- 
perity, 596, 597. 

Nelson, Admiral, an inspiration to 
his followers, 103, 311 ; his punc- 
tuality, 493. 

Newton, Sir Isaac, Buffon's admira- 
tion of, 80; and business, 148; as 
irreligious, 160 ; sayings of, 332, 
333, 448, 454; as a man of busi- 
ness, 482, 546. 

Newton, of Olney, influence of his 
mother, 26. 

Ney, Marshal, 315, 316. 

Nicholson, General, and Sir II. Ed-- 
wardes, 66. 

Niebuhr, Perthes's estimate of, 67; 
and business, 148. 

Nightingale, Miss Florence, as hos- 
pital nurse, 188. 

Normandy, Marquis of, and litera- 
ture, 155. 

Norris, E., philology and business, 
144. 

Northcote, painter, 462. 

Nova-lis, on energy without good- 
ness, 98; his real name, 131; on 
character, 250. 

Nurseries, the schools of civilization, 
18. 

Observation, intelligent, 448, 449. 
Omar, the Caliph, 104. 
Opie, painter, 306, 454, 462. 
Orange, William of, his power after 

death, 104. 
Outram, Sir J., his gentleness, 178. 
Overcrowding, 632. 
Owen, Richard, naturalist, 312. 

Pakington, Sir J., on popularity, 173. 

Paley, Dr., early influence of an 
associate on, 60. 

Palissy, the potter, 355-371. 

Palmerston, Lord, his character, 
101; his laboriousness, 137 ; on Sir 
Gr. C. Lewis, 154; and Sheridan, 
216; his cheerfulness, 281. 

Parental example and precept, 20, 
25, 30. 



Paris, Dr., and his book on "Phi- 
losophy in Sport," etc., 144. 

Park, Mungo, and the African 
woman, 615. 

Pascal, on the immensity of nature, 
243, 244. 

Patience, virtue of, 195, 284. 

Patient labor, its results, 332, 336, 
344, 561, 562. 

Patriotism, true and false, 112. 

Paul, St., on duty, 222, 223. 

Peacock, Thos. L., author of " Head- 
long Hall," 144. 

Peel family, the, 404, 411. 

Peel, Sir Robert, statesman, his cul- 
tivation of memory, 335. 

Pennies, taking care of the, 604, 
608. 

Perga?us and conic sections, 451. 

Perner, Francois, artist, 471. 

Persecution of scientific men, 158; 
of religious men and women, 162. 

"Perseus," casting of, 476, 478. 

Perseverance, 177; its value and re- 
sults, 332-334, 339-347, 354, 359- 
368, 488; commands success, 562. 

Personal influence of great men, 71, 
103. 

Perthes, Caroline, on useful occupa- 
tion, 127. 

Perthes, F., on Niebuhr, 67; on 
learned men, 87; on honest indig- 
nation, 204: on cheerfulness, 294, 
295. 

Peter the Hermit, 104. 

Petrarch, man of business, 141. 

Philanthropy, in women, 188. 

Physicians, eminent in literature 
and science, 142. 

Pitt, Wm., and Canning, 80; love 
of literature, 152; his patience, 
195. 

Plato, on the creation of the world, 
1 62 ; his teaching, 245. 

Pliny, on early Roman industry, 
118: his favorite maxim, 131. 

Politeness, 620. 

Politics, secret of success in, 195. 

Pollock, Lord Chief Baron, 145. 

Pompey, his personal influence, 104 ; 
on duty, 227. 

Pope, Alexander, 312; as estimated 
by the Guinea trader, 75; his 
estimate of women, 612, 613. 

Popularity, pandering to, 172; Sir 
J. Pakington on,, 147; Washing- 
ton's indifference to, 228. 

Porcelain, invention of, 376. 

Porpora and Haydn, 78. 



Index. 



6.">3 



Portraiture of great and good men 
useful, 68. 

Potters, illustrious, 355. 

Poussin, N., artist, 447. 

Poverty, compatible with high 
character, 88, 214; and self-re- 
spect, 622. 

Power resides in industry, 137. 

Precept and example, 22, 65. 

Pretentiousness, 233. 

Priestley, Dr., 456, 457. 

Prime Minister, quality most re- 
quisite in, 195. 

Principles and character, 90. 

Prior, M., Under-secretary of State, 
140. 

Procter, Mr. ("Barry Cornwall"),144. 

Progress, and labor, 571 ; of individ- 
uals and nations, 589. 

Promptitude, importance of, 492, 
551. 

Prosperity, and adversity, 167 ; leads 
to greater expenditure, 594, 595. 

Punctuality, importance of, 347, 494, 
495, 609. 

Purpose, force of, 535, 536. 

Pym, J., on courage in speaking the 
truth, 174. 

Pythagoras, on silence, 203. 

Querulousness, and discontent, 183, 
207, 292. 

Rabelais, physician, 142. 

Raleigh, Sir W., a man of business, 
139. 

Ramus, Pierre, 313. 

Randolph and Douglas at Bannock- 
burn, 179. 

Randolph, John, on mothers' influ- 
ence, 26. 

Randon, Marshal, 316. 

Raphael and Correggio, 81. 

Rectitude of the gentleman, 627. 

Reformers, antagonistic men, 175. 

Regulus, truth of, 265. 

Reliableness of character, 91. 

Religion, and self-control, 194; born 
of conscience, 238. 

Reverence, for great men, 78, 106; 
quality of, 99. 

Reynolds, Sir J., 311, 462, 465, 549; 
his reverence for Pope, 74. 

Ricardo, David, political economist, 
145, 482. 

Richardson, S., and business, 143. 

Riches and worth a temptation to 
ease, 322. 

Ridley, martyr, 163. 



Robbia, Luca della, sculptor, 356. 
Robertson, Dr., his favorite maxim, 

130. 
Robertson (of Brighton), on duty, 

225. 
Robertson (of Ellon), on the great 

hope, 296. 
Rochefoucauld, De la, his maxim on 

friends, 75; a soldier, 142; on 

manner, 622. 
Rogers, S., and Dr. Johnson, 74; 

anecdote of his power of love, 288. 
Rome, causes of its decline, 114; 

laboriousness of early, 118. 
Romilly, Sir S., 324; on indolence, 

121. 
Rosa, Salvator, 461. 
Roscoe, historian and banker, 145. 
Ross, Dr., on intent men, 550. 
Rosse, Lord, 322, 323. 
Roux, M., and Sir C. Bell, 80. 
Rudeness of manner, 619. 
Rudyard, Sir B., on honesty, 90. 
Ruskin, on the diffusiveness of good 

and evil, 64 ; on the power of cir- 
cumstances, 95 ; on lies, 265. 
Russell, Earl, 323. 
Rye, Miss, 188. 

Sainte-Beuve, on admiration of 
others, 71. 

Saint-Pierre, on honesty, 275, 276. 

Sales, St. Francis de, on kind words, 
203; on temper, 293, 294; on 
politeness, 620. 

Sarah Sands, burning of the, 192. 

Sarcasm, dangers of, 202, 210. 

Saxony, Elector of, and Bottgher, 
374, 375. 

Scarlatti and Handel, 79. 

Scheffer, Ary, his mother, 40; on 
womanly courage, 184. 

Schiller, his admiration of Shakes- 
peare, 80 ; on mechanical employ- 
ment, 127; a surgeon, 142; on 
duty, 257. 

Schimmelpenninck, Mrs., on associa- 
tion with the good, 58 ; on little 
things, 94; on discipline, 193. 

Science and its persecutors, 159. 

Scotland, John Knox's influence on 
character of, 108. 

Scott, Sir W., 811; his early taste 
nurtured, 20; on literary talent, 
87; on occupation, 124; his indus- 
try, 129; his maxim, 130; his 
honesty, 220; his cheerfulness, 
283; a patient worker, 345, 346, 
456, 482 ; on self-education, 544. 



654 



Index. 



Sedgwick and geology, 160. 

Self-control, 19Q, 202, 226, 240. 

Self-culture, 544, 545. 

Self-denial, 513, 514; of Faraday, 200. 

Self-help, spirit of, 297, 302; means 
self-respect, 587, 588. 

Selfishness, self -punishment of, 125 ; 
of living, 212; miserable compan- 
ionship of, 290. 

Self-reliance, 96, 194; in women, 
615. 

Self-respect, 61, 191, 555, 621. 

Seneca on vicious companionship, 56. 

Sexual affection, 615,616. 

Shaftesbury, on the cause of immo- 
rality, 213. 

Shakespeare, 305, 481 ; and Schiller, 
80; and business, 139. 

Sharpe, Granville, and anti-slavery, 
175 

Sheridan, his want of reliableness, 
92; his gentlemanliness, 99; his 
indebtedness, 216. 

Shovel, Sir Cloudesley, 306. 

Sidney, Sir P., Lord Brooke's char- 
acter of, 66 ; as a man of business, 
139. 

Sincerity, 190, 230, 620, 622. 

Sjoberg (Vita-Us), 131. 

Smeaton, James, engineer, 311, 394, 
546. 

Smith, the brothers ("Rejected Ad- 
dresses"), 144. 

Smith, Rev. Sydney, on honest liv- 
ing, 215. 

Smollett, a dyspeptic, 293. 

Snobs and snobbism, 171, 182. 

Society, of the good, 56 ; tyranny of, 
170; of books, 624. 

Socrates, martyrdom of, 158; on 
superfluities, 214. 

Soldiers, distinguished in literature, 
142. 

Solicitors, literary men, 145. 

Soult, Marshal, risen from the ranks, 
315, 316; loot in Spain, 505. 

Sour-natured critics, 76, 292. 

Southey, Robert, 312 ; on early bias 
and education, 27; laboriousness 
of, 130. 

Speculative ability, 148. 

Speech and silence, 203. 

Spenser, a man of business, 142, 482. 

Spinola, and the character of the 
Dutch, 115. 

Spinoza, 481. 

Spurgeon, on truth, 264. 

Stafford, Earl of, his noble bearing, 
165. 



Stanley, Lord (Earl of Derby), on. 
work, 123. 

Statesmen, and toil, 137; hobbies of, 
151; French, and literature, 152. 

Steam-engine, invention of, 393, 394. 

Steele, Sir R., on woman's character^ 
183, 612. 

Stephenson, George, 308; persever- 
ance, 341, 342, 546, 554. 

Stewart, Dugald, his elevating ex- 
ample, 62. 

Stone, Edmund, 456, 549. 

Stothard, painter, 454, 455. 

Strutt of Derby, 400, 401. 

Sully, his literary leisure, 152. 

Suwarrow, on will, 541, 542. 

Sycophancy, political, 171. 

Taglioni, labors of, 336. 

Tailors, distinguished, 307, 308. 

Talent and character, 90. 

Taylor, Sir H., on practical wisdom, 
91 ; combination of literature and 
business, 143. 

Taylor, Jeremy, 305; on the provi- 
dence of God, 278, 279. 

Taylor, Tom, 144. 

Temper, troubles of, 195 ; strength 
of, 197; government of, 277; in 
marriage, 617. 

Temperament and manner, 621. 

Tempters of youth, 528, 530. 

Tenderness and courage, 178. 

Tenterden, Lord, 305. 

Thales, on hope, 295. 

Thiers and literature, 152. 

Thoroughness, 550, 551. 

Thrift, 515, 517; origin and defini- 
tion of, 564; an acquired prin- 
ciple, 573; gives capital, 574, 575: 
is within reach of all, 576-578; 
of time, 577 ; needs common sense, 
578 ; needs a beginning, 578, 579 ; 
is a duty, 580; in youth, 584; is 
practical, 585; dignity of, 586, 
587. 

Thriftlessness, of savages, 565, 566: 
of nations, 573, 574 : of individuals, 
575; selfishness of, 579; depend- 
ence of, 581 ; cruelty of, 582 ; in 
prosperous times, 594, 595. 

Thucydides, his mind fired by 
Herodotus, 77. 

Ticknell, Under-secretary of State, 
140. 

Tillotson, Archbishop, on decision 
of character, 169. 

Time, value of, 492, 494, 495. 

Timidity, to be avoided, 184. 



Index. 



655 



Titian, and Charles V., 78; his 
industry, 463. 

Tocqueville, Alexis de, 328, 329. 

Tools, education in use of, 546, 547. 

Trifles, attention to, 447, 448, 451, 
488, 497. 

Trochu, on business habits, 133. 

Truth, 263-266 ; martyrs for, 158. 

Truthfulness, essential to character, 
90 ; in living, 213 ; in action, 230. 

Tuf nell, Mr. , on influence of mothers, 
31. 

Turgot, his literary leisure, 152. 

Turner, artist, 462, 469, 470. 

Turner, Sharon, solicitor and histo- 
rian, 144. 

Tvndall, Professor, 200 ; on Faraday, 
'177. 

Tyranny of strong drink, 212. 

Vattel, 142. _ 

Vaucanson, inventor, 432. 
Vauquelin, chemist, 313, 314. 
Ventilation, 632. 
Vera, incident at combat of, 102. 
Vesalius, his persecution, 159. 
Victor, Marshal, 315. 
Villani, 141. 

Vincent, Earl St., on debt, 526, 527. 
Vita-lis (Sjoberg), 131. 
Voltaire, his maxim, 130; on busi- 
ness and literature, 141. 

Walker, author of "Original," on 
will, 538. 

Wallenstein, his business habits, 134. 

Walpole, Horace, on bargains, 584. 

Walton, Izaak, a draper, 143. 

Warren, Samuel, 144. 

Wart, Gertrude von der, 185. 

Warwick, Sir P., on the sagacity of 
Hampden, 196. 

Washington, 494, 495; his mother, 
33, 45; Chateaubriand's interview 
with, 66 ; power of his name, 103 ; 
a model man, 110; his business 
qualities, 142; his self-control, 
199, 263; his sense of duty, 227. 

Waterloo, Wellington at, 200. 

Watt, James, 308, 394, 395; his per- 
severance, 342; a thoughtful 
observer, 450, 546. 

Weakness of purpose, 168. 



Wealth, and character, 88; by- 
labor, 564. 

Weavers' sons, illustrious, 306, 307. 

Wedgwood, Miss J., on patience, 205. 

Wedgwood, Josiah, 355; character 
and reputation of, 381-389. 

Wellesley and literature, 152. 

Wellington, Duke of, 542,543; his 
mother, 34; his business qualities, 
134; his self-control, 200; on 
duty, 229; his truthfulness, 230, 
231 ; a business man, his honesty, 
497, 499-506; on accounts, 524. 

Wesley family: Mrs. Wesley, 38; 
John Wesley, 177. 

West, Benjamin, painter, 455, 462, 
464. 

Wilkie, Sir David, 311, 455, 462. 

Will, and character, 96 ; freedom of, 
55, 292; power of, 168, 538-542; 
energy of, 175 ; a divine gift, 225. 

William the Silent, 199, 203. 

Wilson, Professor, 312. 

Wilson, Richard, artist, 311, 462, 
465, 553. 

Wisdom, 553; practical, 91, 207. 

Wollaston, Dr., 454. 

Women, business habits in, 45, 46; 
education of, 49, 613; elevation 
of character of, 49 ; their competi- 
tion with men, 52 ; useful occupa- 
tion necessary for, 126 ; wives and 
marriage. 610; influence of, 633, 
634. 

Worcester, Marquis of, and steam- 
power, 322, 453. 

Words, rash and hasty, 202. 

Wordsworth, 311, 482; and his sis- 
ter, 68; his natural temper, 174; 
on self-reliance, 328. 

Work, an educator, 117; the duty 
of, 131; wholesomeness of, 127; 
good and bad, 267. 268; a neces- 
sity, 344, 345. 

Working-men, and self-respect, 88, 
123; definition of, 572; thriftless- 
ness of, 593, 594. 

Worms, Luther at the Diet of, 164. 

Worry, 208. 

Wotton, Sir H., on diplomacy, 232. 

Yates, Peel & Co., 407-409. 

Young, Dr., philosopher, 339,448., 



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